They say you can tell you're getting old when policemen start to look younger.
Not having been arrested lately, I can't really vouch for that, but admit that such a thought ran (staggered, at my age) through my head last week - twice actually!
Having been downtown I caught the Number 100 (nice number...almost my age...) bus outside Raffles Hotel back to the office.
The bus was packed and I slowly made my way towards the rear, where I stood day-dreaming the ride away.
After a while my sixth sense told me someone was looking at me. Casting my eyes to the right, though not making eye-contact in case they wanted a donation for a swiftly-revealed collection tin, I checked what my inner-voice was saying.
Right enough, this elderly fellow was indeed looking at me.
Carefully checking that my trousers were zipped, my socks were both the same colour and my wig in place --- joke, it's glued down, no problem --- I decided I had better look at him.
He smiled, stood up and said ‘Uncle, have a seat...' Singaporeans call old folk Uncle or Aunty...so I suppose it could have been worse.
Obviously he was a long-lost Chinese nephew, one with fading eyesight.
‘Young man,' I whispered ‘I know I've had a rough day but I will be running a half-marathon later, so thank you ...but no thanks'. Shattered...
Then the next day on a full train an old lady sitting opposite to where I stood gave me a look, stood and offered me her seat.
Must need her eyes testing, I told myself ...and quickly swung from the overhead loops like a Chinese gold-medal winning gymnast.
Sadly I was considered too old for the event and immediately disqualified.
Time to check the passing of time perhaps...but then perhaps not...!