NEVER has a man been so proud of his age.
And it all comes down to a little card he now carries in his wallet.
The card is given to anyone aged 65 and older, regardless of income. It is my husband's single most prized possession.
While some might tarry by the letterbox in the leadup to a birthday in the hope of a birthday card or two, my husband spent the week before turning his official retirement age zipping out there several times a day, hell bent on ripping open his over 65 seniors card envelope.
On the day it arrived, he was a happy man.
Within minutes, he was phoning Energex, claiming his rebate. Then it was down to Queensland Transport with his registration form, ready to get his discount there, too.
There are good times ahead.
As a conversation starter (actually, given the resultant yawn factor, it's more a conversation stopper), he will tell you that his card is dual purpose. Flick it over and it entitles the bearer to half-price public transport.
While there is a gleam in the eye with the telling, I have yet to remember the last time he boarded a bus or train. Still, this may herald new things and he may become a commuter, just to save half the fare.
I shouldn't begrudge his enthusiasm. Perhaps this is a skillful way for the government to diffuse what could otherwise be a painful birthday.
Midway between 60 and 70 is not an age that has much cause for celebration, especially given it also means that the foot, the fingers, the heart and the waistline have all seen better days.
These are just my problems, with no little card in the wallet to cheer me up.