modern times

Wandering down Grafton Street Dublin with Rowena.
Christmas lights everywhere.
Truly it's a winter wonderland.
Rowena is skipping around me in a moderately unrestrained fashion.
Her limber physicality is most cheering, although it serves to highlight the ontological disparities between us.
For she is radiant with physical beauty while my beauty is clearly more of the spiritual kind.
As she cavorts she sings a song that is currently in the pop charts.
She sings: "You've got to move like Jagger, groove like Jagger, oooh oooh oooh, just groove like Jagger.Oh  yeah move like Jagger. Wooo wooo wooo, come on James, you gotta move like Jagger."
And then she does some enervatedly teasing dance steps.
Presently I call a halt.
"Look," I say reasonably, "I do move like Jagger."
"James, no you don't."
"Yes I do. Have you seen him lately? He's 78. The man can barely walk... Oh! You meant I've got to move like Jagger when he was twenty?"