How other people actually see us

Apr 1 2008 by Keith Hellawell, Huddersfield Daily Examiner

‘I must confess to many of the traits displayed by the “Grumpy old men” on television. While I never shout at the TV I do walk away in frustration when annoyed’

LIKE most families we have a large number of photographs hanging on the walls of our home which for some reason fascinate our grandchildren.

The youngest, three-year-old Ellie-Mai, is a case in point.

Every time she visits us we have to carry her around the house answering her many and varied questions about the people in the portraits.

This weekend was no exception. “Who is that, Grandpa?” was the demand, accompanied by a pointed finger. “That’s Granny and me” I retorted as we reached our wedding photograph which, thanks to Examiner, was featured with one of my more recent articles.

Ellie-Mai very carefully studied the photograph and then me. Although she didn’t say anything I can guess what she was thinking. How can this old, grey man be the same as the young one in the picture?

The little mite got me thinking about how we change over the years, both inside and out, without realising it.

Although I am no longer as fit as I used to be and the face I see in the mirror ages as the years pass I don’t feel any older inside. I suspect this is the same for most of us.

But do our minds really age slower than our bodies, or is this merely an illusion to kid ourselves we are younger than we really are?

Both Bren and I used to get cross when our parents visited us because of the things they did. Charlie, her father, would religiously wind up all our clocks and water the household plants. While I’m sure this was well-meaning over the years he broke a couple of timekeepers and drowned many plants.

Following his exertions he would fall asleep on the settee and snore loudly. Bren’s mother, after committing herself to a number of household chores which didn’t need doing, would make excuses for him saying: “You know what your father’s like”.

We both vowed we would never behave the same in our children’s homes when the time came.

However, while I resist watering plants and winding up clocks, I do have a ritual when visiting them. I walk around their garden suggesting the things they may do to improve.

This is not intended as a criticism, but because I have a keen interest in gardening and wish to guide them.

Bren visits different rooms inside their homes, making suggestions about furnishing and décor as she has an interest and flair in such matters.

Thinking about it we will probably be as irritating to our children as our parents were to us. I suspect they feel they are being inspected by the two of us and, like us, say nothing in order to avoid hurting our feelings.

I do know one of our daughters tells her sister she makes a special effort to “clean up” and dispatches her husband to the garden in advance of our arrival.

We are also more predictable than we used to be. We have our own little routines which we tend to follow religiously. We visit the same cafés, whether here or in France; go the same walks and eat the same food and I have my favourite chair. I am not suggesting there is anything wrong with this merely that it is a sign of ageing.

Bren also says I am becoming less tolerant than I used to be. She has begun to call me Victor. I must confess to many of the traits displayed by the “Grumpy old men” on television. While I never shout at the TV I do walk away in frustration when annoyed.

I am short-tempered with telephone salespeople who insist on going through a meaningless list of questions of their own before answering mine.

My memory is also slipping. I lose my spectacles on a regular basis and put things down and forget where they are and blame my wife. However I am pleased to report I have not got to the stage of pushing to the front of the queues or jostling others out of the way in shops.

Whatever we believe of ourselves we are as others see us and there is no doubt in my mind that my grand-daughter sees me as an old man.