Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty Twenty.

I lie about my age.  The Daughter thinks I'm 20 and therefore I have taken to telling everyone that I simply am, just that: 20.

Something slightly untoward happened today, and I didn't really have a retort.

I was in the process of teaching a poem to some youths:

The Pant:  So youths, listen up... I've got to get through this poem and we've only got three quarters of an hour.

A Youth In Sea of Youthful Faces:  Miss Liner?

TP:  Yes, Youth?

AYISOYF:  We have 55 minutes.

TP:  Thank you, Youth.  I am well aware of that.  (Now attempting to be stern) If you had just opened your ears you would have heard me say, "We've only got three quarters of an hour".  (Slight eye roll and tut tut Youth over fact that Youth has not, in fact, paid any attention.)

AYISOYF:  But Miss Liner?

TP:  Yes Youth?  (Now raising eyebrows - a technique I have realised has actually caused wrinkles... MUST stop doing it.)

AYISOYF:  We have 55 minutes.

TP:  Oh don't get me started.  We've got three quarters of an hour and now... now... now that you've been interrupting me I bet we've only got ... like not as much as that!  You're trying to distract me, aren't you?  Well, here's the lowdown kids:  you may not use calculators during English.  You may not use English-to-Afrikaans dictionaries.  And no, I have never used a dictaphone-

Another Youth In Sea of Youthful Faces:  Don't worry, Miss Liner.  We know you can't count beyond twenty!

TP:  I beg your pardon.  I took Ad Maths, I'll have you know!  All the way until Finals!  I can so count past twenty...  I even took quants at University.

AYISOYF:  Then how come you've been 20 for the past three years?

TP:                            

Youths: Far too lippy for my liking.