A forty six year old friend of mine, when asked how old she was, replied, "Sixteen, with thirty years experience of it."

I usually feel like that but it was even stronger over the weekend. The Mountaineering Club at my old uni was having its 65th anniversary dinner and I was able to get there and see some friends I hadn't seen for four decades, in some cases.

And then it was time for the 18 hour train trip back home. I get the cheap fare because I'm officially an Old Fart, but it wearied me more than it used to.

But no indignities yet, unless you count the inability to see where you left your glasses.

Cheers, Rowan