I don’t consider myself old.
I concede that in the eyes of a teenager I am considered to be hammering on death’s door, but in the eyes of the eighty something year old chap who sits on the bench in the park near my house watching the world dance by I am little more than a child and I like his perspective.
But I have moved up in maturity whilst retaining my youth, yet bits have started to go wrong. Stuff is happening to me that I didn’t envision would occur until I could get a reduced fare on the bus.