THERE are umpteen ways to tell that one is getting older.

I guess the most obvious is a realisation that your body is slowing down.

Physical tasks you tackled with ease a decade earlier become more difficult and you may have to ask for assistance.

There is also the matter of becoming increasingly forgetful.

Earlier this week we went shopping.

The General Manager was going into one store and asked me to buy something from a neighbouring shop.

She told me exactly where I would find this item.

I remembered her instruction that it would be immediately to the left upon entering the shop.

That was fine. There was a display just where the GM said it would be.

The problem was I could not recall what she asked me to buy.

An assistant noted my puzzled look and asked if he could help. I explained that my wife had told me to purchase something from the display on the left upon entering the store but my mind had gone blank.

The fellow talked me through a variety of items on display until the penny dropped. He pointed to a certain item and I remembered it was what I had been told to get.

I was a trifle embarrassed but another example of forgetfulness was to follow. After I paid the assistant for the item it was his turn to look puzzled.

I stood at the counter waiting for my change and might have still been there had the chap not felt the requirement to advise I had handed over the exact amount.

I apologised profusely and the assistant smiled politely. It was clear he would have a funny tale to tell when meeting his pals in the pub that evening.

Tomorrow, God willing, I reach the grand age of 60.

In recent days I have been aware of telephone conversations ending abruptly when I have walked into a room.

The General Manager and the children have obviously arranged something.

They have not said what it is. All I have been told is not to forget tomorrow is my birthday.