I like being sixty

Today is my big birthday. I am sixty years old.

I remember I loved being ten. My dad took me to London and we went around the science and natural history museums. I wanted to be grown up.

Being twenty was even better. I was at Imperial College (near those museums by coincidence). I was station manager of the university radio station and was sure my future lay in the BBC. I felt very grown up.

My thirtieth birthday was in the Netherlands. I was working in IT for a company called Logica. We were about to return to the UK after a four year secondment. It had been an amazing adventure, living abroad, learning a new language and a different culture. I was married to Mandy and we had two boys, then aged four and five. I was definitely grown up.

I did not like my fortieth. We were living in Yorkshire and I was working for the Halifax Bank of Scotland. I loved my job and my family but I did not like the idea of being forty. In my head I was in my thirties. I had a convertible BMW to prove it! I might be grown up but I still felt young.

Fifty was a much better birthday. Work was a bit tricky since I was between roles, but the boys had left home and with Mandy we were enjoying our prime. I felt very happily middle aged.

Sixty is even better. I love having a bus pass and getting discounts. Life as a retiree is better than I could have imagined. And I am still fit enough to do the things I always wanted, such as living on a narrowboat and spending a month interrailing. I may be old but I am certainly not grown up.