When the lads return for Michaelmas term, I always feel like a kid. Sometimes, though, it hits even when I am surrounded by freshers. They will be zooming by, maybe on a scooter or skateboard, and I’ll be limping. Then the facts assert themselves one more time.
Off campus, when the light was just enough sideways, I will suddenly be amazed at the backs of my hands. Old-man wrinkly skin, age spots, odd little bumps. Hard to draw the wrong conclusion from that.