It takes me by surprise, the day I look in the mirror and don’t recognise the face looking back at me. When did I get so old? I rarely look in the mirror, never liking the face that looks back at me, but it’s a shock to realise that the door to my youth is firmly closed. I’ve skipped past the middle-age years and can almost hear that door creaking closed too. Perhaps that’s just my aching joints. I smile wryly; I’m being ridiculous, worrying over my ‘lived-in’ look. I’m not showing my advancing age. I’m showing my expanding experience.