Aging backwards? Or national ailing eyesight...

I am starting to seriously worry about the state of the nation's eyesight.

For the second time this week, someone has marked me down as much younger than I really am. What is going on? Can't they see the fine lines around my eyes and mouth? The beginning-to-sag skin beneath my cheekbones? The loss of elasticity under my chin? Or even, the decades of weariness in my eyes, fergodssake??

Earlier in the week, Acclaimed Cookery Writer was describing me as 32 (she is fast becoming my New Best Friend!). Then yesterday - this will make you laugh - the lady serving me at the Co-op asked me for ID, as I attempted to buy 2 bottles of rather nice-looking and happily discounted Wolf Blass.

ID! Helllooooooooo?

Couldn't she tell I was 3 years away from the big 4 0?

I let out an involuntary little giggle, "Are you serious?"

The (admittedly bespectacled) lady sniffed, "We never joke about under-age alcohol sales. I'll need to see some ID please".

Did she really think organic apricots, The Times and fair-trade cocoa were the shopping habits of a teenager? Not to mention the bumper pack of nappies in my basket! Mind you, this is the Isle of Wight, where many of the mothers look like elder siblings of their bawling offspring.

I had to press the short-sighted shop-assistant further, "You honestly think I could be under 18?".

"Well you do look awfully young..."

I could have hugged her. Especially as I'd woken up with a rather angry blemish on my chin that morning and was not exactly feeling my most beauteous.

Joyfully I rummaged for my driving license and popped the Wolf Blass into my rucksack. I think I skipped home. I may even have whistled.

Whilst floating on my little cloud, I wondered whether Husband had perhaps slipped her a tenner earlier in the day, as an early Mother's Day present.

But no. For when I recounted my tale to him later, he sweetly brought me down to earth in the charming manner that only our nearest and dearest can get away with.

"18 eh? It must have been the pimple".

Thanks Husb. I love you too.

And I'm applying for a job at the Co-op. Preferably on the till next to the short-sighted shop assistant with a propensity to police under-age booze-buyers.