I came across this old fella at the bus stop. Just your typical old man, with a few easter eggs, and some chilli’s on a bush. Something for dinner, and something for dessert? Something for the wife, and something for the kids? Or something for the lady downstairs?
Either way, he’s part of a generation who came here after the war, grew old with style, and didn’t kick up a fuss. I can picture him at home, with his lino flooring and self-installed toilet, waiting on a sensible piece of furniture for his 7pm dinner of Spaghetti Bolognaise with zuchini, followed by a little vino, and maybe some fruit for dessert. (To go with the easter egg? Probably not.)
He most likely grew the zuchini himself in this backyard vege plot, along with the year’s supply of strange yellow melons and green beans that you’ll receive in bags when you visit. And most likely spent most of this year, while you were on Facebook, out in that garden, doing whatever it takes out there to get the perfect Tomato to grow next to the near-perfect melon. All so you could share a few cheap eats with your share house flat mates, while he’s at home having a nap.
He probably knows exactly what you’re up to, knows you probably won’t eat all the beans, and won’t even start on the melon. He knows you have sex. Knows you smoke, knows what you smoke, and knows how you smoke it. He was into that, too, back in the day.
He knows you don’t study as much as you should, drink more than enough, and don’t go to church. Let alone his church. But he doesn’t mind, as long as you’re happy.
And as much as he likes it when you come over, especially when it’s for no reason, he knows you’re busy. And that your friends reside at the pub – not at his place.
But he doesn’t care! What a dude. Just make sure you take some apricots.
As long as you’re happy. As long as you do your best, don’t drink too much, and look after yourself, he’s happy. Which is why he’s my favourite dude of the day.