One thing that I like to think keeps me young is that I happen to work with a lot of people half my age: 30-odd or younger. I also have two children in their mid-twenties. I like to monitor (without being so idiotic as to adopt) their slang, their cultural tastes and especially their style. I’ve noted the beards, chunky jumpers and silly trousers with comedy turn-ups on the boys. And I’ve clocked the furry Honey Monster jackets on the girls. And what they call a sweater vest and I call a tank top. And also that first cousin of the tank top, the looser, longer knitted tabard-type affair.
This winter we witnessed an array of clumpy platform boots, the body like a short welly,
