There’s a thing doing the rounds on Facebook. It says “If you like Friends, think about something: this year, Ben would have been 18, Emma 11, Phoebe’s triplets 14 and Monica and Chandler’s twins 9″.
I have a similar hang-up about Michael Jackson. Daniel would have been a couple of months old when he died. And it’s funny, because even
Joshua – who was four – has no concept of him other than a pasty-faced girl in an oxygen mask. I saw him deteriorate over the years but when I
show my children then-and-now photos they find it very hard to connect the guy in the Billie Jean video with the one who nearly threw his baby
off a balcony.
I got the following from Gareth this afternoon; it’s reproduced as is. I think that many of us have felt like this, and I welcome your stories, from those of us who have seen, and who are aware that our memories are fast becoming what is known as history.
I was at a Maths Dinner last night, sat with a group of first and second years. One of the second years was moaning about how she’d just had her Halfway Hall, so she must be getting really old as her degree was half over, and how she was probably also halfway through her life. One of the first years suggested that she might regenerate, like Dr Who. I said, “ah, you’re talking about the new series of Who here, aren’t you?”
She said, “Oh no, I _much_ prefer the old series!”
“Yes, David Tennant was much better!”
I felt a bit old.
She said, “Oh, you mean the really old series? I’ve seen a couple.”
Another said, “Can you watch them on the internet?”
I said that most were available on DVD, but some of the very earliest stories no longer existed. Which caused a flurry of:
“But surely they took backups?”
“How come no-one recorded it?”
I felt old again.