Knickers I AM old. Who cares? I don’t. I ask for help at a shops checkout. Get my bag packed for me by the till assistant and 9 out of 10 times he/ she comes around and picks my bag up from the counter and gets someone to carry it to my car. In the main Tesco where they provide mobility scooters, the Male assistants accompany me back to the car, lift my bags in then delightedly drive the scooter back into the shop. ( makes me recall that great feeling as a kid when first being allowed to drive a bumping car at a fair ———-female assistant’s grow out of bumping car enjoyment, males never)
There isn’t any given age for feeling old. Brought on due to firstly an accident then by poor treatment from my local hospital resulting in 2 years of severe pain and enforced chair rest resulted in my becoming old. I feel old but who cares? I accept it and am quite happy. It’s just great how people help me and I couldn’t thank you all enough. You enable me to live a full life looking after myself as much as I possibly can. Yet get help where I need it and believe me, it took me a long time to actually be able to ask for help.