Senior

Afternoon

So I went to the Musee du Cinquantenaire to see an exhibition that is widely advertised on billboards around town under the inviting title of 'Bon appetit!' The modest exhibition focuses on how our views of nutrition and meals have evolved over many centuries as a result of smaller and more significant discoveries. They show relevant objects from all over the world, some of which go back to 2,500 years BC and as recent as the beginning of the 20th century. All very educating and entertaining.

There were two downers in the personal sphere. One is that at the reception, the person selling me a ticket inquired if I was a senior citizen? The first time this has ever happened to me! Then again, for two euros discount, I was not inclined to ly about my age.

Then in the exhibition itself, one of the themes they discuss is milk and butter. Fine. Suddenly I see a large black and white photo of a pony-drawn milk cart,  with the capped vendor selling loose milk which he pours into the buyers' receptacles  from a measuring can. Children hang around to be in the shot. The scene is uncannily familiar, for I remember those carts from my own youth. (Bart was the name of our vendor, and we used to truck along for a couple of blocks and share the excitement.) I check the caption, and sure enough: the photo dates from 1950. I was five years old then. There is no question about it: I have become museum material !

On the way back, Lara calls me and alerts me to the fact that our fridge is depleted beyond an acceptable level. Would I please swing by the supermarket? And she gives me a list of items.