The bones creak and the joints are stiff, making it an effort to get up some mornings.
The mirror reflects a wizened crone, and it takes a while to recognise her.
No more the long shining mane of golden hair, the bright sparkling eyes, perfect teeth and flawless skin.
Her crowning glory is sparse, grey and tufty, her eyes dim and cloudy shielded by spectacles, the skin sagging, grey, and weathered, and the teeth sit in a glass on her bedside table grinning at her.
Age catches up with all of us.
To the young, someone in their thirties is old, someone in their sixties retired grandparents, and someone in their seventies or older, ancient.
Young views do not help those for whom old age is already present.
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