Young lady

 

Oh. 

I've reached that age.

I opened the door to the delivery driver, he was very youthful but had the air of a 'young fogey' about him. I like that term - think I first heard it on 'The Big Breakfast', if you remember that Channel Four show from years ago, where there was a regular slot featuring guests whose ages and interests were somewhat at odds with each other. Like, say, a 17-year old who was into George Formby, or a pre-adolescent in a bow tie who collected old clocks.  Anyway, Delivery Boy Man was bright-eyed and  gangly but his thick-rimmed glasses, unruly ginger beard and benign face gave the impression of being a little on the nerdy ticket, and his smiley, respectful demeanour as I greeted him were most endearing.

Then in a chirpy, old-fashioned Cockney bus driver sort of manner he said, as he handed over my parcel (remember, he was only about twenty):

"Here you are, young lady!"

Young lady!  Which, because I am clearly not a young lady and no amount of moisturising could ever give the impression that I am to one of such tender years, means only one thing: old lady.  I have to confess, my heart sank a bit.  I've reached the age when a person at least forty years my junior refers to me in this way precisely because he's thinking the opposite.*   Isn't that weird? But you know it's true! 

Mind you, reflecting on it later, I realised that it would have felt far, far worse, in fact I would be slowly dying inside, had he said, "Here you are, old lady!"  I should just be grateful for small mercies.  

 X Ray Spex: Age (if only it were all the rage...)

* Quick, important caveat: totally different if it's a friend, or someone of similar/senior age saying it, then as a tongue-in-cheek token of affection it's rather nice...