I went on a hike this weekend, at a festival of guided walks which, it seems, is frequented by retirees. Mr Absolutive and I were the youngest by at least fifteen years. Our fellow hikers never lacked breath to chat about their grandchildren.
My feet were blistered after the single hike. I wanted nothing more than to shower and lie down.
Meanwhile, all the grannies (who'd been doing this every day for a week), were eagerly swapping plans for dancing at that evening's ceilidh.
