"It don’t take no nerve to do somepin when there ain’t nothin’ else you can do."

There was an international triatholon around these parts some weeks ago, and there were these metal railings scattered everywhere around town. I quite liked the formation of these and took a snap. I don't know who won, but I suspect that they were tired.

I will admit that I find it depressing when I see the cool teens about town dressed very much in the style of 1986. To my mind, 1986 was a rather bleak period for fashion. Bad hair, too many colour clashes and ridiculous sun glasses. Why any young man would want to walk around looking like Brian Mannix is beyond my comprehension. I certainly would not like to deny the lad his right to do so, but I can't deny my inclination to shake my head at the Joseph and his techicolour vomit t-shirt.

But it isn't poor taste that depresses me. Poor taste is pervasive in any era. What depresses me is that for Master Mannix-II, 1986 would equate to 1969 in McCracken lifespan-adjusted years. Am I really that old? Do people my age bore people his age banging on about the eighties like people used to bore me banging on about the sixities in the eighties?

God that is depressing.