The Hippest Old Fogey

Two things happened recently which confirmed my suspicions – there is a lot of competition amongst old geezers for the title of ‘hippest old fogey’ . The first incident happened in a Marks and Spencers café in Worcester. I was minding my own business, drinking my ‘flat white’, when I heard the man on the next table, aged about 65,  say very self consciously into his phone ‘Okay Google, where’s the nearest furniture shop?’ Evidently, Google didn’t respond as he repeated himself several times and then hurriedly buried the phone in his pocket. The second incident happened in what the Spanish refer to as an ‘owle(t)’ – the final ‘t’ is optional. I always thought that an owlet was a young owl – but to them it’s an out of town retail outlet as in LabelsOutletShopping in Ross on Wye in whose café I was waiting to be served (I drink a lot of coffee).  This time another man of about 70 asked for a ‘wet coffee’. Now, the woman serving him was about the same age and she looked at him with a jaundiced expression which said ‘you’re kidding, right?’ What she actually said out loud, through gritted teeth was ‘What do you MEAN by that?’
He turned towards me with raised eyebrows but I ignored him. This situation called for female solidarity.
When it was my turn I decided to ask for tea instead and she said ‘I can manage that.’

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