Tell-tale signs of getting older from knees to comfy shoes

It kind of crept up without invitation, letter, ceremony or official notification.

Nobody from the council came round to present me with a cardigan and a National Trust membership: they are undertakings of my own volution.

I should have recognised the numerous warning signs: all police officers now look like 15-year-olds, as do doctors, bosses at work and those supposedly in local positions of "power".

My current Amazon playlist is all songs played on 'hits' stations.

Classic cars are Ford Capris and Ladas (one of which I owned, embarrassingly, in the '90s).

I've also started making noises when I stand up, or move, in any direction.

To clarify, the noise serves absolutely no purpose besides I subconsciously feel it is one I should make, and is akin to a Bulgarian powerlifter going for a new personal best or one of the Williams sisters hitting a return volley.

Things have got worse: I recently, again, injured myself sleeping and I really, really 'appreciate' a comfortable pair of shoes.

I often moan for no reason, and sometimes for good reason: "£7 a pint!" before cementing my new position with the follow up of "I remember 10p a pint night in Saturdays nightclub in Hastings" which always falls on deaf, younger ears.

Brett Ellis has been forced to admit he is old (Image: Brett Ellis)

But, as a contradiction, I don't actually feel old.

In my head I'm still somewhere in my 20s, or, at a push, 30s.

I like new technology. I use AI.

I ride mountain bikes.

I listen to new(ish) music.

I still do stupid things and find juvenile jokes considerably funnier than a man of my vintage probably should.

When I was 20, I was under the illusion that half centurions actually felt their age.

But now, the invites to the pub on a Friday after work with the young bucks have dried up completely and, although I wouldn’t go if offered, it would be nice to be seen as young at heart at least once a term.

I’m basically the same idiot I was at 25, except my knees hurt, my back gives me gip and I’ve developed surprisingly strong opinions about self service checkouts.

I've hopefully got plenty of adventures, stupidity and inappropriate behaviour left in me yet, although Notcutts Garden Centre has a sale on this weekend and I may console myself by buying a rake and some new turf as others seem intent on putting chaps my age out to grass.

• Brett Ellis is a teacher from London Colney.