Am I old?

I already know the answer, I don't know why I'm asking. Nice reminders of impending agedness and death: peers reproducing. Unpleasant reminders: too numerous to mention.

Last night, while waiting for an as-it-happened-not-actually-that-interesting documentary about Lawrences Marks' dad dying in the Moorgate train crash, I caught some of a new sit-com starring Doogie Howser. That Doogie Howser was very much a grown-up could have been a little reminder of my advancing years in itself. However, I chose to ignore that hint. One of the sub-plots of the really rather poor comedy was that a couple (the girl of whom was Buffy the Vampire Slayer's best friend, Willow) were attenpting to act with greater maturity by turning down dancing in night-clubs in favour of wine-tasting parties and the like. At the denouement of this particularly tension-filled plot one of their friends had a word with Willow and said to her 'I mean, what's next? Scrabble nights?' I was stunned. Since when has Scrabble been synonymous with being a fuddy duddy? Was not lovely Mark from dictionary corner once world Scrabble champion? I'm sure he was, because I saw a photo in the paper - he had a natty board with yellow letters. Later on, the couple abandoned their wine-tasting and ran off to the club leaving their guests to show their true, ancient colours by playing Trivial Pursuits. Oh no, not TP too.

Still, not to worry John, the Scrabble night is still on on Tuesday. Bring some bottles of Hooch or something. Just so we know we've still got it.