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Age CAN Wither Her

I encountered this person striking Anglo-Saxon attitudes in Romsey market place this morning. He cheerfully gave me permission to take his photograph, and seeing my quizzical look explained the reason for his get-up, namely the Anglo-Saxon Family Fun Day taking place at King John's house. We were getting on quite well, but then he had to spoil it by adding, "You might like to come along, if you've got children or, er, grandchildren."
Now, it's true that someone of 54 may very well have grandchildren, and in fact I know several people younger than me who actually do, but this is the first time someone's put it to me quite so bluntly. Even muffled against the cold, surely my youthful mien shines through? Apparently not.
When I told my mother about it a little later, she cackled gleefully - like the wizened old crone she is.
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But you can't tell what people will think. Opposite from sartorais's story, my grandmother, who was a full 58 years older than I, was once addressed by a taxi driver as my mother. I was 15, she was 73.
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During that same time in hospital, she encountered an old gent in his righties who told my sixty-five year old mother, "Sixty-five? You're a baby!"
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On the other hand, I was once walking on the street with my seven-year-old great-niece when a lady asked if she was my daughter because she looked so like me. "Niece," I said. I didn't have to go into detail. ;-)
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