No. 1203: The winners Jaspistos reports: Competitors were asked for

amusing and accurate definitions of get- ting old.

It was the myopic Thurber who realised he was getting old when men he bumped in- to on the pavement began saying, 'Sorry, Pop' instead of, 'Watch your step, Buster!' Myself, I am self-protectively vague (a sign of seniority?) about the exact point at which getting old begins, but it obviously varies in the eyes of the beholder, from the relatively early birthday problem mentioned by Monica G. Ribon below to the last 'sans everything' phase typified by Ron Jowker's: 'You don't notice the smell any more when the toast burns.' The rewards (two pounds per item printed below) went to those who succeeded in being fresh without being too fanciful. Any sign of seniority which cropped up twice (such as turning . to the obituary column before the sports section) was automatically disqualified. Would 'Anon', from Manchester, kindly supply his name

'Either you pay up or the world discovers that you are Snuggly Wuggly Bear of the Times valentine page.'

you, competitor, who, after a list of senile symptoms, added the scientific note: `I have gathered these observations from the behaviour of some of my contemporaries. So, then, you know you are getting old when:

You're wearing narrow trousers for the second time.

Your wife believes your excuses for getting home late.

(Basil Ransome-Davies) You've forgotten what the inherent contradic- tions of capitalism are.

(Anon) You can remember people whistling on their waY to work.

(Ted Thompson)

You appreciate your father's stoicism.

(George Moor)

Your children no longer bother to argue with you. (Lawrence Rickard) Your grandchildren allow you to sit by the window in the bus. (N. E. Sore() You start taking moderation to excess. (Pascoe Polglaze) Boy Scouts insist on escorting you across roads you've no desire to cross.

thye Wont maa ke TY YspeWR.£1*ers the waY they useed Twoo. (Andrew McEvoY) You realise the paper you have been reading for half an hour is yesterday's issue.

(W. A. Payne)

Your nephews buy you life subscriptions to your favourite magazines.

The first cuckoo spots you before you spot it.

(Ellen Brigwell)

Only doctors, muggers and heirs apparent reallY look at you. (Jane Webb) You stop loving snow and sweet-corn.

(Susan H. Llewellyn)

You spot one grey hair in your moustache and forthwith become clean-shaven.

(O. Smith)

Avant-garde seems deja vu.

The birthday cake is too small for the candles.

(Monica G. Ribon)

You fall asleep in front of the television with-

out realising you haven't switched it on. ,

(J. WomersleYt

The revolution for which you once worked so hard has destroyed everything you expected it

to create. (Estelle Holt) You hear the phone ring and hope it's not for