It finally happened.

I was at work yesterday. Nothing too unusual there. 

    I was laying cement; a job for which I'm not trained, but doing a reasonable job of it, when three enormous fridges arrived. When I say enormous I really mean it. Each weighed about 150 kilos, that's over three hundred pounds in old money. The old were to be manhandled down three flights of rickety steps, and the new ones delivered in the same manner.

    I sprang to help, although that's probably not the correct word since that minicab ran over my foot last week when I was waiting at traffic lights on my motorbike. And it wasn't some measly little car either, it was a sodding great Mercedes people carrier. Suffice to say I won't be spranging anywhere for a couple of weeks. Thus I was not looking forward to the fridge event.

    "No," my manager said. "We''l take care of it." 
    "Why?" said I.
    "Don't worry about it, we young ones will do it."
    "What, are you calling me a wimp or just old?" I demanded. My only response was a thin smile.

    So that's it, then. I'm officially old. And if that's what they think then I'm just going to go with it. I'm not a Royal Marines Commando anymore; just a decrepit old codger.

    And if they think I'm going to scale the thirty foot high walls they almost gouged to extinction while removing the old and bringing in the new machines, they can think again. 

    I might fall and trash my feeble old body.