I have recently started being amused by images of supposed old age in books I am reading. After a character is described as totally decrepid for pages, suddenly it is mentioned that he/she is 63!
Anyway, here is one from today's read, a woman being visited by a police officer for questioning:
'After a few moments the door opened a few inches and a woman - in her early sixties, he guessed - stared out at him suspicioiusly from behind rather stern glasses. Twenty years ago, with a better hairdo and the thick worry creases airbrushed from her face, she might have been quite attractive, he thought. Now, with her short, iron-grey hair, a baggy orange jumper that swamped her, brown polyester trousers and plimsolls, she looked to Pewe like one of those doughty, backbone-of-England ladies you find manning stalls at the church bazaar ..... her small, round mouth fell open, revealing neat teeth that were yellow with age.
Actually, apart from the polyester I quite liked the character's style 