remembering fountains

''Parents aren't stupid.''

Are they not? That's a relief. Remember, children, don't be stupid; have kids!

I don't know much but surely someone has to be responsible for the mess we're in: 60 billion and rising. I saw a middle-aged man in a suit waiting for train, drinking a can of ''Red Bull''. His fly was undone. Not that I'm in the habit of observing a man's crotch but on this occasion it was all too obvious: part of his blue shirt was clearly poking through the hole. By chance I had notice him leaving the gents before entering the station shop. Despite his open disclosure, there wasn't sufficient evidence he'd fathered children but why wouldn't he?

I remember drinking fountains in parks - and in school playgrounds. They were refreshing. Especially during long summer days, I remember how cold like brass the water sometimes was. We learnt the knack of sucking from the vertical spurt without letting it dribble down our chin. In parks, there was even a little trough near the ground for dogs.

Things appeared more civilised then. Now, evidently, we prefer Coca-cola, Red Bull (I don't even know what that is), and much worse. Consumerism. Choice. Stupid, we are.