It’s not fair - why does time speed up when you’re older?

Happy birthday to Keith... but quite how many, he's not telling!

Happy birthday to Keith... but quite how many, he's not telling! - Credit: Archant

Birthday boy (almost) Keith Skipper reflects on the passing of the years...

It's official! Time really does go quicker when you haven't got so much of it.

I share this vital information while waiting for the sun to rise on my latest birthday bonanza tomorrow. It's foolish to specify which one as the number could well be out of date before I reach the end of this little diatribe.

Oh, yes, it is Mother's Sunday as well. Our two sons will be spoilt for choice and I'll feel like a party pooper. The fact I share this double date dilemma with media mogul Rupert Murdoch and former Chancellor Nigel Lawson is of little consolation.

Strange as you consider how everything else slows down when you reach a certain age. Yet birthdays appear like impatient buses to transport you rapidly over the hill. You wait all that time for one milestone to arrive …

The greetings industry, loaded with bright young wags who forget they could be hoist with their own petcards one day, deliver little joys like: 'Remember when your hair was thin, teeth were few and cheeks were chubby? No change there, then.'

The optimist within whispers birthdays are good for you. Statistics show people who have the most live longest. The fatalist outside merely recalls asking the ticket inspector on a recent train journey if he'd like to see his senior rail card. Back came the reply: 'No thank you, sir, that won't be necessary.'

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With what can I arm myself to enliven progress into another year? Well, I do know now that every time your cup of happiness is nearly full, someone always jogs your elbow. I also accept the older a man gets the further he had to walk to school as a boy - especially through snowdrifts.

I appreciate dangers of trying to straighten out wrinkles in your socks only to discover you're not wearing any.

On with the palais glide towards the cloakroom of bewilderment.