Today I went into Ashford. Nothing remarkable there except that I thought I'd take the bus. It was a another beautiful day so after last week's precedent, I thought I'd enjoy
The lunch at least made up for the incident on the bus on the way in. When it arrived it was full; not surprising as it had already done the best part of 20 miles before it reached my stop. As I got on, a young girl of about 15 got up and offered me her seat. The combined sound of my ego and self-esteem crashing to the floor would have been deafening were it not for the laughter my polite decline evoked. At 46, I was probably the second youngest on the bus and almost certainly the only one who had paid the full fare. And I suppose, like everyone else on the bus I could probably also have passed for one of her grandparents.
Like all old people, tomorrow I am going have a whinge. The effwits at the Royal Mail took the gloss off my day even more than being mistaken for Methuselah.