I have recently had a birthday, a day I embrace with celebration whilst I steadfastly ignore the number of years clocked up on the planet. I find this easy to do since, unless you are hitting a big number, no one is much interested in the exact details once you leave school and I rarely act my age as my sister is always keen to point out. (I think she regards this as a flaw but I do love to be frivolous.)
Today I have been forced to face my age with shocking abruptness whilst making a seemingly innocuous application for BBC tickets. It seems necessary for the bigwigs at the Beeb to know exactly where the audience comes from and their age range. Imagine my horror when I discovered the age band I now fall into stretches into another numerical decade, one which I am certainly not yet ready to acknowledge, far less actually embrace.
Oh the inexorable passage of time!
9 years ago
