Age — it’s really all about perspective

ELEANOR GOGGIN

AS my mother got older she started asking random folk she encountered, like bankers and sales assistants, to guess her age. When they felt under pressure and cut off at least 10 years to what they actually thought, she would stand to her full height, preen like a peahen and give her age. They would feign surprise and she would grin elatedly. The triumph of her day. I haven’t started that caper yet. But I might soon.

I’m not sure I’ll ever consider myself elderly. And I certainly don’t now. But in recent times it’s difficult to decide what other people perceive as ‘elderly’.

I’ve often seen headlines about people being knocked down and brought to hospital. ‘An elderly woman suffered injuries’. Now when her age is eventually disclosed it turns out she wasn’t really elderly at all. In my estimation. But it’s only now dawning on me that I’m not young anymore.

People have been phoning me to know if I need stuff from the supermarket. Now I don’t mean to be negative about their kindness, but I’m grand. And young. I joined the queue for the elderly by mistake in the supermarket. Purely because I was so far behind the two people in front of me. When I saw the sign, I decided it was too late to change. I waited expectantly for the checkout girl to explain nicely to me that the queue was exclusively for old people but she didn’t, she smiled sweetly and greeted me in that way that you greet old and infirm people. A kindly and encouraging voice.

Maybe my paranoia is taking over. My kids have been acting as if I’m not even capable of washing myself. I was playing tennis when it was considered OK to do so while adhering to social distancing. They were having conniptions. They clearly see me as an auld wan as well.