It's hard rubbish collection time again and we live in a street with a lot of old people and original occupants from when the houses were built in the late 1940's. There's this old lady 2 doors down and apparently she's well into her 80's. She rings on the doorbell when I was having a nap (again) and wants to know if she can take the coffee table we've put out. I said fine and offered to have Darren take it down for her because it's not a little table, it's a big solid timber one, and she said "no, no, that's fine" and carts it off herself. I'm not even 30 and I'd probably sook if I had to bring it back into the house. She's so spritely and she doesn't even look 60, much less 80 something, and she does her own gardens and she's out and about every day. I hope I have that much go in me when I'm her age, although I don't like my chances since I don't have that much go in me now and I'm only a third of the way there!