I am of the age that would enjoy the movie Florence Fletcher Jenkins. And indeed I did.
Now I know someone who has turned 50 really isn’t in the position to mock age. And I’ve never been one to do so. God knows it sure beats the alternative. But…
As my friend and I entered the cinema, a fellow Florence Fletcher Jenkjns viewer rightly picks the movie we were planning to watch. But surely we are decades younger? Surely it is not so obvious which movie we are here for?
I’ve never been to a movie on a work day. And a 10am session! Put them together. The answer is: session for the elderly.
Average age, 75. At 50, I was a mere young thing.
Now surely the cinema knows who comes to morning weekday session. And to the movie being shown? So why show ads on joining the army? Planning on getting people after a second career?
Ah, the ad on superannuation seems more appropriate.
I only made the 10am weekday movie sessions because my DGF (Darling Gardening Friend, as she will henceforth be known) picked the sessions so I hurriedly got ready. Normally I dither around of a morning if I don’t have to go to work.
Still I was surprised to see the man next to us snoozing before the movie started! Needing a nap at 10am?
Then there were the couple taking though the whole movie. Not in the loud and obnoxious way teens often do, mocking a movie or being show-offs. This was a continually chat. “Who is that?” “What are they doing?” “What does that say on the wall?” “Look. It’s Howard from Big Bang.” “Is his girlfriend with him?”
FFS. Shut up.
I’ve seen the future. And it isn’t pretty.
Still, I suddenly realised my posture and firm clasp on my handbag. Yes, I’m turning into my grandmother.