‘What happened, did you have a fall?’ The language here is important. Clumsy toddlers fall over, drunken teenagers fall over, adults remain upright at all times and old people ‘have a fall’.

I’m 56 and I just fell over. Actually, it was a bit more comical than that. On an unlit road I slipped on some mud, went over on my ankle, stumbled, and before I regained control I tripped over the kerb, lost it completely and fell three feet into a drainage ditch full of bricks. Eight stitches and three hours in A&E later I emerged basically OK. The most upsetting part was being asked by the receptionist ‘Did you have a fall?’

I’m genuinely not bothered about getting old. At least not right now, when I’m essentially a slower, slightly less sharp version of my younger self. Like many of my peers I keep fit; more so than for most of my life. I eat well, don’t over-indulge and most of my stress was left in the noughties. But the last 12 months has been a stark reminder that it doesn’t matter how fit we are in our 50s, how many marathons we can run or how much hair we still have. Covid-19 has demonstrated all-too graphically that those of us on the fifth floor of life and above are weaker and more vulnerable than those below.

I’m not in the really vulnerable group, most likely to die, but I am in the gang most likely to get seriously ill and pull through with varied and seemingly random damage to a lucky dip of previously healthy organs. The youngsters don’t suffer with Covid. The under-40s are generally fine too. But no amount of M-badges on your top-spec BMW will save you 50+ macho-men from the risks of a microscopic strip of malicious ribonucleic acid.

So, what do those of us with scrotums longer than our shadows have left? You’ll be pleased to know that the good news starts right now and thank you for waiting 337 words to hear it. The big advantage we oldies have is knowledge, perspective and experience. I read a fascinating interview with a youthful tech entrepreneur who said that one of the secrets of his success was that he made a point of talking to as many older people as he could. It didn’t matter whether they knew his business or were relevant to it, what he got from these discussions was a different view on life, problems and how people think that he didn’t get from his peers, who mostly thought like him. Often the answer to a problem would come from a lateral thought sparked by a conversation completely unrelated to the challenge.

I was really inspired by this story and I recognise it in my own life. I’m lucky enough to work for a company with a boss who gets this too. We have a lovely mix of energetic, highly talented youngsters complemented by some equally talented and very experienced, but maybe not-so-energetic mid-lifers who on many occasions provide an interesting alternate view on a problem that either fixes it outright or sparks another conversation among the nippers who go off and build something spectacular.

The experience of middle-age also shows in managing the relationships both inside and out. Calming influences in times of trouble from people who’ve seen and survived it before. Steady hands, voices of reason and every now and then a mischievous twinkle too because, let’s not forget that being 56 means you’ve already been 17, 25, 30 and done at least one mid-life crisis. No one can cause mischief like a middle-aged maverick with fire in their belly.

So, instead of splashing on the ‘Just for Men’ and pretending to be half our age we should act our age, start sitting down for a piddle (because they take so flipping long these days) and enjoy being Yoda instead of Hans. Of course we should still keep fit, eat well, drink less and enjoy our sharpness for as long as humanly possible too, but at the same time it’s important to remember that adding an extra five weeks to your life means 35 more days dribbling at the wrong end not dancing in your teens. One of the scariest questions I ever heard was ‘If you could choose to know one of the following what would it be; How are you going to die or when are you going to die?’ I first heard it eleven years ago and still can’t answer it.

Live every day like it’s your last one? No thanks because having been present on the last day of both my parents’ lives I’d rather only do that once if at all. Act your age however? Oh yes, every damn one of them