ONE of the funny things about getting older (and I certainly don’t mean in the funny ha-ha way), is that your body knows when the bad weather is coming.

We older folk walk around with this hidden weather gauge.

The slightest change in the weather and our arthritis kicks in – knees, hips, shoulders and hands begin to ache.

Some people can tell us when it’ll rain just through their body aches and pains.

I’m betting that their joints are more accurate than a TV weather presenter, but it’s not just our arthritis that shows our age.

Have you ever looked at a police officer or a doctor and thought they looked about 15 years old?

I can’t help thinking that I have pairs of knickers older than them.

Everybody loves soft, comfortable chairs that swallow you up.

When we sit in them, we never really think about how on earth we can get back out.

We should plan at least five attempts to stand back up involving moans and groans, usually followed by stretching or rubbing our backs and legs.

Everyone over a certain age plays something that I call ‘The Guessing Game’.

We can spend the best part of the day looking for our glasses before some smart ass reminds us that they’ve been on our heads all along.

Even watching The Antiques Roadshow is a trip down memory lane.

We’re constantly saying ‘I used to have one of those’, when it’s probably still lurking in the back of a cupboard…

The Coronation Street theme tune ending now means it’s time for bed.

Of course, there’s also the issue of font sizes on our phones.

All I can say is ‘thank God that we can zoom’, although it still takes me absolutely ages to read something if it’s long.

As we age and our digestive systems change, I’ve noticed that some people tend to pass gas more regularly.

The time to worry is when the act is followed by the word ‘oops’ and we hear ourselves telling younger folk how different it was when we were their age.

Yesterday, I had a great conversation in a shop.

A lady told her kids they had to carve their own pumpkins this year.

I felt the need to inform them how lucky they were that it wasn’t a turnip, which we were stuck with as kids.

A woman my age working at the check-out joined in by re-telling in great detail how hard it was to cut out the middle.

Speaking of Halloween, I would like to point out that my body is not a temple but a haunted house.

It needs lots of work and it makes mysterious creaking sounds.

It contains the spirit of an older lady who seems eternally annoyed about something.

Having said that, I must admit that in the past people seemed to laugh more and be more grateful for what they had.