I'm sitting here at work, listening to a pair of the ancient volunteers. Between them, their combined age is probably 160 years old. Initially, I thought they were cute, the way they chattered at each other, recalling their youths and the way things used to be. I enjoyed their take on the world today, because it was coloured by the past, which is the way we're supposed to think, right? That's the whole point of learning history. Well, over the course of several mornings listening to them chat, I've decided that they're kind of irritating. They're both lovely ladies, and they're talking to each other, but since I'm sitting next to them, I'm hit with the full brunt of their conversation. Today, it has consisted almost entirely of these subjects: The Germans trying to get supplies from Japan; the Germans; the Queen; the Germans; Prince Harry; submarines during WWII; the Bismark (and the classic film, Sink the Bismark); the Germans; and finally, Das Boot (pronounced incorrectly). They also peppered this somewhat prejudiced conversation with a discussion of the people of Tent City being kicked off their squats, of course, saying, "And it's about time they did." Add to this that they find nothing relevant to be said by anyone under 40, often talking right over my attempts to join in. These women are not giving me hope for my own old age.

Last night was the season premiere of West Wing. Ya, it was a little brim-full of rah-rah-America, but not too badly. It was also chalk full of the wonderful, witty back and forth dialogue, great cinematography, and some very good moments of poignant honesty. It's such a good show, and I'm so pleased it's still running. I look forward to another good season, even if we have to suffer through the loss of Rob Lowe. We'll survive.