There’s worse things in life to worry about
Or, why the oldest generation never fails to inspire.
I wasn’t going to take the tram tonight. I was just going to do my usual and grab a bus. But I’d had a meeting and wanted to get home quicker than a bus could manage.
So I opted for the tram.
New Islington to Piccadilly.
No trams from Piccadilly straight to West Didsbury. Urgh.
I wait for a tram from Piccadilly to Deansgate/Castlefield.
Still a bit pissed at the unexpected journey time. The tram was meant to be quicker than the bus. This isn’t quicker.
I get on the tram and lean against these padded, slanted seats. I prefer to stand.
An elderly guy sits down on the normal seat to my right with a bit of a thud. He laughs at himself. Then he looks up at me.
I look down at him.
He smiles.
“Can’t sit on hardly any of these seats because there’s just loads of crap on them,” he says.
“Oh, I know,” I reply.
I didn’t really have anything else to say, so there was silence.
“To be fair though, there’s worse things in life to worry about. If that was my only worry, what a wonderful life it would be.”
What a wonderful life it would be.
We chat for a few minutes before my tram arrives at the Deansgate stop.
I shake his hand, wish him well, and step off.
Five minute wait for the Didsbury tram. No worries, I’m tapping away writing this Chapter.
If only we stopped worrying. What a wonderful life it would be.
