It is not easy growing old.  It’s certainly not for the faint-hearted.  Not only must we contend with stiff joints, achy muscles and diminishing senses, we are constantly being put in our place by the youth.

Not so long ago grey hair was considered to be a crown of glory.  Wrinkles signified wisdom.  Respecting elders was taken for granted.

I was born too late for that era. I therefore have the dubious honour of maturing in a time when OLD is to be avoided at all costs.  Grey must be washed away.  Anti-aging, wrinkle cream applied daily.  And that middle-aged spread must be kept at bay by gyming.

I find it fairly easy to ignore the pressure of modern society to dye my hair, get botox/lypo treatments, and hire a personal trainer.  I am slowly growing my crown of grey, I am content with my body shape and I get enough exercise walking, gardening…