We’re going up on the train this morning, all the way to York to see my grandson in a play. I’m preparing for the worst. I have no idea – I’ve only seen him in school productions.

I’ve been retired an awful long time now, so in the mornings, I have the prospect of a whole day in front of me. A lot depends on the weather, and I spend more time doing puzzles and things than I ever used to.

My grandchildren seem to take it for granted now that I’m going on to be 100. But when you get to 93, it’s a terminal existence. You can’t plan when you’re old.

My mind automatically goes into an old person gear, where some things are not worth worrying about. So why waste time worrying about them?