The Saturday girl is busy entering details for a local group into our work computer. Standing nearby, I overhear as she reads out what she is typing.
Me (catching onto the way she pronounced the four syllables so distinctly): ‘The Self-Preservation Society?’
SG (with an indulgent smile, for she knows me): ‘The Flute Society, actually.’
Me: ‘Ah, shame. Rather less exciting.’
SG: ‘Yeah, shame.’
Me: ‘”You’re only supposed to blow the bloody…F#s!”.’
SG: *blank look*
Truly, ten years really does create a generation gap…