I DIDN’T know I was old. My face has gone baggy, and my hair has sunk back through my scalp to reappear as wire in my eyebrows, ears and nose, but I don’t count any of that – I can still do more pull-ups than any of the 21 people in my family. But yes, I’m old. How? Why! I didn’t agree to this! The clue is in the previous paragraph: lavatory. No-one calls them lavatories anymore; they’re toilets. When I mention the lavatory small children smirk from the safety of the back seat in the car (I can see them in the rear-view mirror). It’s losing touch with the…