As I walked down the street at night, I heard screaming, shouting and cheering. It could have easily been mistaken for children playing had it not been for the smoke from sheesha lofting in the air and the walking sticks hung on the back of the chairs. The city was Aqaba and the game was draughts.
It always brings me joy when I see old men playing games and having fun with their friends.
I have seen this scene everywhere I have travelled. In Indonesia, they were playing chess. In Ecuador, it was backgammon. And in Morocco, it was Ludo. The countries and the games being played are different but the scene is almost the same – old men playing board games outside with their friends. Trash talking, playing mind games and criticising each other’s choices/moves. Just having fun.
Everywhere except in Europe.
It is especially sad in London. When I walk around, I see lots of old people about. Walking around like zombies, almost waiting for death.
But why shouldn’t the old people in London and the rest of Europe have the same childish joy?
Next time you’re with someone old, pull out a board game. Let them compete. Their body can’t but their mind still can. Go toe to toe and make them feel like that happy child they once were.
They will probably say no initially. My mum always does. But she always enjoys herself. Except when she loses very badly.
A board game isn’t just a board game. It’s a time machine. It can make old people into children again.
If you enjoyed this essay, you may also enjoy:
I Don’t Regret Much In Life But This One Definitely One Of Them.
This short story was first published in my newsletter, Thinking Loudly. If you enjoyed this story and would like to get a weekly short story from me, please sign up for my newsletter.