I was watching my neighbours seeing off their son as he left for the airport on his way back to Barcelona.
As the car moved down the road, they waved at the back of the car and I witnessed the old fellah lift the flat cap from his head and do that hat-waggling thing that you see in black and white footage of long-dead football crowds.
Just a little bit of culture clinging on, like a carriage return, or the click of a telephone dial, still fresh in the memory to us elders, yet already dead to the youngsters.
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