I'm ninety-six, you know!

No. Not me. A neighbour, who loves to surprise people by disclosing her age (she looks much younger, and is alert and active). And this set me thinking...

What age does one have to reach before not wanting to disclose it? I know some people don't mind, but I'm afraid I do. There's a kind of shame that comes with becoming old(er), and I'm not sure why. It's as though we've failed in some way; as though it's somehow our fault

But then we - or some of us, like our neighbour - reach a time when age is something to be proud of. When is that? Ninety, perhaps? And why?

But it can be useful. I recently tried out a horse belonging to a hunting farmer, and while extolling its virtues, he repeatedly told me that it wouldn't jump the very high hedges and walls. I kept telling him that I didn't want to jump high walls; that my hedge-jumping days were over. Finally, in desperation, I told him my age. He was gratifyingly surprised, but didn't mention hedges and walls again.

 (I bought the horse, and he arrives on Monday. He will have a post all of his own. But he and I have agreed to leave walls and hedges to others.)