Yes that's right, I'm feeling my age. Or somebody else's, I'm not sure. I might be feeling the age of someone called Doris, who lives in sheltered accommodation in Selsey. She likes Murray Mints and watching the Polish gardener with his top off. Goodness me, I think I've just slandered someone I made up.
My back still hurts. It could be the after-effects of Saturday's massage.
I just caught myself shouting at the wall "How many more fucking things have you got left to drill? There can't be any, surely!".
And looking in the mirror I find I look like a rather badly dressed person from the 1940s.
We all have our days when everything seems at odds. This might be one of them. And to go with my old-lady mood, I have bought this. I really rather love it. I can keep my Murray Mints in it.