And here's a little poem that I learned from a mate called Nick Walmesley who unfortunately died a few years ago in a motorcycle accident. He referred to the author of this ditty, Bill Williams, as 'a POW extraordinaire'. Bill used to write little poems to entertain his fellow POWs in Changi prison camp. This was one of them:

OVER THE HILL

It's not the grey hair that makes a man old
Nor the faraway look in his eye I am told
But if the heart makes a contract the body can't fulfil
You're over the hill, brother, you're over the hill

If you look at a Venus and just heave a sigh
If you hear a rude joke and you laugh till you cry
If it's all in the mind and you can't raise a thrill
You're over the hill, brother, you're over the hill

You can fool your dear wife with the tenderest of lies
You can shear the old sheep, pull the wool over her eyes
But if she asks for an encore and you say that you're ill
You're over the hill, brother, you're over the hill

Now life is a struggle and the conflict is keen
There are just so many shots in the old magazine
When you've fired the last shot and you cannot refill
You're over the hill, brother, you're over the hill

Now this is my story, alas and alack
When you've squeezed out the toothpaste you can't put it back
So if you want to make whoopee don't wait until
You're over the hill, brother, you're over the hill

Bill Williams
Changi prison camp, Singapore.