My old-fashioned resolutions for fellow young fogeys
We are happy reading novels, gardening, listening to vinyl and putting things in jars
How do you spot a “young fogey”? Maybe you need to get down to a river bank to see one casting a rod, or to a café to spot one hunkered over a pot of camomile doing a crossword. According to data from a new study by Privilege Insurance, 18- to 21-year-olds in Britain are now enjoying the sorts of pastimes their great-grandparents would recognise, from baking to fishing, crosswords to knitting.
Seventy-three per cent of the young people asked said they had baked, while four in five (83per cent) claimed their favourite hobby was reading actual, physical books. Just over half liked crosswords and 37per cent admitted to a penchant for bingo – although it is hard to imagine this right-on generation responding well to “Two fat ladies, 88…”
I may be somewhat older than 21 (35 next week, since you ask, birthday cards to the usual address), but I do recognise many of these pastimes among my peers and the generation below us. Knitting has firmly taken hold, thanks to hipster companies like Wool and the Gang, which sell sustainable yarn, wooden needles and patterns that are more animal print Aran than crocheted cardigan.
Baking is also well established: at my wedding last month, half a dozen friends produced showstopper cakes at the drop of a hat. My husband and I brewed our own beer, made labels, typed up the table plan on a vintage Royal typewriter and hand-printed invitations on a Victorian letterpress. The thought of sending digital e-invites didn’t even cross our minds.
As a devoted listener of The Archers and Desert Island Discs on Radio 4, as well as a part-time potter, I am used to being called a young fogey by friends and colleagues.
It rather hit home, last week, when I was at home for Christmas, while my mother checked her emails and replied to text messages, I made banana bread and potato-printed my own wrapping paper. A fetching red tree design, if I say so myself.
How many of your own relatives sat round the table, their fingers itching to check for WhatsApp messages? How many snuck glances at their phones during the Queen’s speech? In truth, we should be taking heart from the rise of the young fogey – the first concrete sign that young people who have grown up surrounded by screens aren’t trapped in a world of tech tunnel vision.
We certainly don’t need your commiserations. Most of us are perfectly happy reading hardback novels, gardening, listening to vinyl and putting things in Kilner jars. Our hearts skip a beat when we see buy-one-get-one-free offers on jars of marmalade. Nor do we identify with labels like “Generation Boring” and “Generation Zzzzz” (though even if we were offended, it would be hard to say so for fear of being called snowflakes).
Millennials might drink less than ever before (a quarter now don’t touch a drop), have less sex and take fewer drugs – but we don’t want a pity party instead. We’re fed up with being called “uninspiring”, “depressing” and “neurotic”; a pathetic lot, unable to match the more hedonistic tendencies of our Baby Boomer and Gen X predecessors (now receiving hospital treatment for drug abuse in their droves).
And please, can we stop with the tired stereotype of twenty- and thirtysomethings spending all their money on mashed avocado and sourdough toast?
The truth is that, just like every generation, we are simply finding our own ways to cope with what the world has thrown at us. And if that happens to be the ways of our grandparents, then so be it. It’s no coincidence that the rise of traditional pastimes and downturn in our social lives has coincided with the recession. It makes sense that if we can’t own houses or have oodles of disposable income, we seek to create the conditions for those things – nesting, despite not having a nest to call one’s own, and spending money on experiences that make us feel anchored in some way.
Using your hands for something other than crushing candy or swiping left is – dare I say it? – fun, especially when in company.
Little wonder that evening classes are bursting at the seams – my pottery course has a waiting list, as more and more millennials clamour to get their hands on clay.
A Christmas wreath-making workshop I recently attended was a sell-out and the woman running it was, you guessed it, no more than 25.
That’s why, when I take up knitting – yes, this is my resolution for next year – I shall do so proudly. We young fogeys have nothing to be ashamed of: in fact, we should be beacons of hope for any despairing grandparents out there worried for our tech-savvy generation. Now, be a dear and pass me that rosegold yarn, won’t you?