Me: "Hello, Norman! How are you?"
Norman (on his way back from town, carrying two bags of shopping): "I'm fine, pet. If it wasn't for me back, I'd have nothing to complain about."
Me (just checking; Norman is fiercely independent): "What does the doctor say about it?"
Norman: "Just wear and tear, pet. Old age."
And off he goes, cheerfully, delighted to have been asked about by one of the "young girls", as he calls us neighbours.
He's 95 next month.
Lauritz Andersen Ring - Old man walking in a rye field