You run out of breath walking down the stairs.
Your knees buckle but your belt won't.
The waiter asks how you'd like your steak and you say: "Pureed."
You can't get your rocking-chair started.
'Getting lucky' means finding your car in the Tesco car park.
The Rolling Stones still look young to you.
You enjoy hearing about other people's operations.
The names in your little black book all belong to doctors.
You need two attempts to drive over a speed-bump
Your friends compliment you on your new alligator shoes when you're barefoot.
You'd like to be nostalgic but you can't remember anything.
Your easy chair has more controls than your car.
You look both ways before crossing a room.
You need your false teeth and your hearing aid before you can ask where you left your glasses.
Your actions creak louder than your words.
You and your teeth no longer sleep together.
Everything hurts. And what doesn't hurt doesn't work.