Naughty nineties

If you catch me reflecting too often on the travails of too-long life, this story may act as an antidote.

It reminds me of a crisis faced by Winston Churchill. I can only paraphrase. An aide greeted him with the news, one morning, that a member of the cabinet had been found consorting in St James’s Park with a member of the Household Cavalry. “And how old is So-and-So?” asked Churchill. “Seventy-eight, prime minister.” “And what was the the temperature outside last night?” “Seven degrees below freezing, prime minister.” “My God, it makes you proud to be British!”