On Trump's inauguration
By Joseph O'Connor
I am one of the unseeing. I admit it.
The era comes in every life when you realise not only that you know nothing, but that everything you ever thought you knew was mistaken. "I grow old, I grow old," TS Eliot writes. ("Yes, you do," reply the rest of us. "Shut up.")
Usually, that realisation evolves rather gradually, like the slow-dawning onset of a season. You notice that you don't know the names of happening bands or television personalities. Celebrities are in the newspapers talking about learning to love themselves, and you have absolutely no idea who they are. Which is fine. It's as it should be. It's the passage of time. You have arrived at the age when you could live without sex if you had to, but not without your glasses.