On the eve of my fortieth birthday I spoke to my family, and in a friendly tone suggested that if they so much as mentioned my age on the morrow they would both die in horrible pain. Next day I was a grumpy old git and spent most of it on my own. Thereafter I was fine.
Last week I received a circular from a very well known chemist's chain reminding me that as of the 10th of August I would officially be old. But just to soften the blow they also offered me a twenty five percent discount on everything they sold plus oodles of extra points on the loyalty card which I've thus far used just to clean the ice off my car windscreen. The offer might have worked were it not for the implication that due to my advanced age It might be better if I didn't dawdle on cashing in all those extra points.
I'm only sixty!!!! I don't make Methuselah look like a spring chicken by comparison. I don't feel any different from the ninth of August when I was merely middle aged.
The next person to ask me if I need help crossing the road is going to get the back of my hand.
Although I am going to give in to one thing. My hair grows so fast that It's almost down to my backside in less than a month. If they offer me pensioner rates again I'm going to accept.