Paragraph of the day

From The Guardian (here):

It’s right up there among the worst moments of my life. On the way home from a night out at the opera – a first-rate, if not stellar, production of Verdi’sSimone Boccanegra – the Northern line tube train was crowded. Rather gracelessly, my wife pushed me aside and made a beeline for the only available seat. Just as I was glorying in my heroic selflessness, a young man of about 30 got up to offer me the priority seat for elderly and disabled passengers. At first I blanked him, unable to believe he was actually talking to me. But he wouldn’t give up and asked again if I would like the seat. I hastily said I was fine, that I was only travelling a couple of stops but – through gritted teeth – thank you so much anyway. It then turned into a face-off. He kept insisting and I kept saying I was fine where I was, until I caved in and sat down. My wife looked at me and burst out laughing. I just wanted to disappear. I am now officially that old person to whom the more polite offer their seats. That person I somehow never thought I would ever be. It’s all downhill from here.

I know the feeling.