The Worst Fault Of The

I'd Been Told Of All The Things You're Meant To Feel When Your Father Dies. Sudden Freedom, Growing Up, The End Of Dependence, The Step Into The Sunlight When No One Is Taller Than You And You're In No One's Shadow. I Know What I Felt. Lonely.

Writing About The Indignities Of Old Age: The Daunting Stairway To The Restaurant Restroom, The Benefits Of A Wheelchair In Airports And Its Disadvantages At Cocktail Parties, Giving The User What He Described As A Child's-eye View Of The Party And A Crotch-level View Of The Guests. Dying Is A Matter Of Slapstick And Pratfalls. The Aging Process Is Not Gradual Or Gentle. It Rushes Up, Pushes You Over And Runs Off Laughing. No One Should Grow Old Who Isn't Ready To Appear Ridiculous.

I Knew Nothing About Farce Until I Read Puce A L'oreille, And Had No Idea What A Deadly Serious Business It Is.

The Worst Fault Of The Working Classes Is Telling Their Children They're Not Going To Succeed, Saying: There Is Life, But It's Not For You.

Like Childhood, Old Age Is Irresponsible, Reckless, And Foolhardy. Children And Old People Have Everything To Gain And Nothing Much To Lose. It's Middle-age Which Is Cursed By The Desperate Need To Cling To Some Finger-hold Halfway Up The Mountain, To Conform, Not To Cause Trouble, To Behave Well.