WALKING over Worcester bridge last Saturday, I observed the most wonderful apparition from the past.

Festooned in headlamps, stickers and a tank aerial, this was of course that machine so beloved of old mods everywhere, the legendary Vespa in full battle rig. Running along its right-hand panel was the legend Quadrophenia.

I caught a glimpse of the scooter's young rider. Most of his face was obscured by helmet and scarf, but I doubt whether he was much over 20. Pete Townsend's masterpiece of mod culture was already an ageing film when this young man was born.

Yet our mystery rider was quite obviously fascinated by the whole genre to such an extent that viewing his pride and joy was, for me, like stepping back in time to 1964.

Older people tend to blame the 1960s for more or less everything that's gone wrong with British society but this just demonstrates an inability to see the bigger picture. Perhaps an unwillingness, too - after all, the aftermath of the Second World War witnessed an explosion in illegitimate births and broken marriages.

Many servicemen arrived home from Europe or the Far East to find a new baby in the house - and then a basic mathematical deduction would rapidly confirm the worst.

My generation, of course, was the one that didn't want to grow old. We weren't the first young people to yearn for a premature, romantic demise. Now, we hope to become very old indeed before we die.

Thanks to the imperfect legacy of mods and rockers, we dismiss their undoubted excesses and go on to condemn the youth of today - just like our parents did, and no doubt their parents before them.

Meanwhile, life goes on - and occasionally stands still, as our unknown Vespa rider proves beyond question.