People have started to offer me their seats on the bus. But I don’t mind. Far from denying my age, I am going to flaunt it
I’m 60 on 29 December. Wooohooo! For the past five years, I’ve already been thinking of myself as 60, and now I’m ready to truly embrace it. Presumably, on 30 December I’ll start thinking of myself as 70.
It’s not that I’m wishing my life away. Far from it. Nor do I want to start acting like a batty eccentric, wearing purple with a red hat that doesn’t go, as in the Jenny Joseph poem. I’ve been happily clashing all my life. Yet there is something liberating about this landmark.
