Have you ever spotted someone your own age and thought,
“Blimey! There’s no chance I look that ancient… surely not?” 😅
Let me share what happened to a mate of mine:
—
My name is Harriet. I was waiting at the bus stop in Bristol, and when I finally boarded, I caught sight of the driver’s ID badge. His full name was printed clear as day—and it stirred a memory.
All at once, I pictured a lanky, charming lad with chestnut hair, the one I’d fancied rotten back in secondary school… over three decades ago.
For a heartbeat, I wondered:
“Could it really be him? The boy I daydreamed about in maths class?”
But when I took a proper look at the driver, I brushed the idea aside.
He was balding, salt-and-pepper, lined with age, with a slight paunch—he seemed decades older!
Still, curiosity got the better of me.
I leaned in and asked,
“Pardon me, did you happen to attend St. George’s Secondary?”
“Aye, I did!” he answered cheerfully.
“What year did you leave?”
“1982… Why’s that?”
Before I could stop myself, I blurted,
“Well, we were in the same year!”
He studied me for a long moment…
And then…
THIS BLOKE…
BALD,
GRIZZLED,
WEATHERED,
A BIT ROUND IN THE MIDDLE,
WITH WEARY EYES AND A SHUFFLING GAIT…
LOOKED ME DEAD IN THE EYE AND SAID:
“Ah. Which subject did you teach, miss?”
—
😑
Since that day, I’ve never made snap judgments about appearances.
But I’ll confess… I took extra care picking my outfit the next time I left the house! 😉
—
Go on, tell me—doesn’t that sting just a bit? 😆
