Tilting

Our sweet neighbour turned 89 last week. He and his wife are lovely. Every time we’ve seen him recently he's reminded us, "I'm going to be 89!" He's so thrilled about it. I love the way oldies are proud of their age, like small children. It’s inspiring, and makes me wonder why we all get so het up about getting older in our middle years. He's planning to make it to 99. Good on him. I hope he does. In my mind there’s a sense of solidarity between he and I - we are frequently in our gardens in dressing gowns and slippers, and it’s comforting to see someone else wandering around with dodgy balance receptors - I'm always doing windmill arms.