Picture me standing in the queue in Marks and Spencers, bottle of wine in hand. Every till is adorned with a sign asking me not to be offended if they ask for proof of age.
"Can I see some ID, please?" asks the cashier.
"Yes, certainly, but you'll be surprised," I say.
I give them my driving licence. Last time this happened, about a month ago, I showed them my grey hair.
I am not sure whether this proves that I am middle-aged or not.
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