'why, Oh Why, Are They Showing Such Exaggerated Respect To A Young Bloke Like Me?'

TOMORROW morning I'll wake up and discover I've turned 50. Not that I haven't been warned. For the past few days I've received a slow stream of birthday cards, all of them tipping me off to the forthcoming event. "You're 50!" they say in various fonts, the letters often raised or even frosted with silver just to make sure the message gets through. Maybe the exclamation mark is a measure of their surprise that I've made it this far. Presumably, when I finally drop dead, my friends will all send ...