Whatever happened to old age?

When I was a student I mourned the fact that by the time the new millennium dawned I would be far too ancient in my orthopaedic sandals to party into the 21st century. From where an 18-year-old stands, 32 looks like the distant peak of Mt Decrepitude. I did not anticipate the mass rebellion against ageing, the commuters reading Harry Potter and the businessmen with their Nintendo DSs.

Like Peter Pan, two entire generations have simply refused to grow up. Although a study this week showed that the average Brit believes you stop being young at 35 and start being old at 58, I don’t know anyone aged 35 to 55 who gracefully accepts the tag “middle-aged”, nor anyone between 50 and 70 who describes themselves as “old”. When the patron saints of the baby boomers, the Rolling Stones, still cling to their leather, it’s unsurprising that their fans are equally regressed. Linda Kelsey’s article in The Daily Telegraph last week about how her 50-something husband took a gap year, then left home altogether, is a parable for the age. More...

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