I was doing the weekly shop in Waitrose and, because I had bought two bottles of wine, the lady on the check-out asked if I was over 25. That's what they seem to do these days: need proof of ID if you are, or look, under 25 rather than 18.
I produced my driving licence which she looked at casually. Then she spotted my birth date. Her reaction will live with me for many years to come. It reminded me of "that" look that Gillian Duffy gave a Sky News reporter when she was told that Gordon Brown had called her a "bigotted woman".
We then had quite a laugh and it made my day. I joked that it's a curse - a curse that I can live with. I went on to say how ten years' of night shifts and now working seven days a week obviously agreed with me. And, anyway it's in my genes and I am just lucky, before thinking later that actually my late father looked rather older than his years for most of his life.
Another year, lots more voiceover work and my few grey hairs will be a lot of grey hairs and I won't get asked anymore.
I'm 43.
