Sixty-Three Years Young

Yes, it’s my birthday today and, unlike previous years, I am unabashedly owning my advanced age, because the World Health Organization has given me a reprieve.
Three years ago, I crossed the line from Middle-Age to Old, and I wasn’t very happy about that, but the WHO recently had a re-think and came up with a new Young/Middle-Aged/Old labeling paradigm, which turns me into a young man again.
As it stands now, if you subscribe to the WHO’s new guidelines—and you’d be daft not to—you are considered Young until you reach Middle-Age, which doesn’t kick in until you are 66.

As a bonus, Middle-Age has been extended to 79, so you’re not considered Old until you get to 80, which gives me some welcome breathing space.
And that’s about as nice a birthday present as anyone can get.
With luck, by the time I reach 79, the WHO will have extended Middle-Age to 90.

Me, in 1955, still very much in the Young category
Me, now.
Actually, this was last week, when I was still OLD — that explains the grimace.
Now that I\’m a young man again, I\’ll have to rethink the cardigan.