I wasn’t particularly concerned about the implications of turning 40, but there comes a time in your life when everything around you signals that you’re getting on.

Such as the time I was convinced that my landlady had been snooping around my cottage in my absence, moving some tomatoes around in the process. It turns out that I’m the one who moved the fruits earlier that day.

Reluctant visits to the dentist seem more frequent, and you start brushing your teeth more regularly and for longer periods because you’re convinced the dentist is out to get you.

You walk past what you’re looking for to go search for it in the next room. Only to return to where you left it in the first place. Knowing full well that the ironing board belongs in the kitchen, you find yourself lugging it into the bathroom, for no apparent reason.

That’s a new one. At funerals you are suddenly being asked to say a few words on behalf of the family, or be an MC of sorts.

You’re being saddled with the jobs nobody wants.

The get-up-and-go-days of your youth are over, and you pee way too often. Now warm-up exercises and stretching are the order of the day.

I’m beginning to appreciate the words of my late grandmother, even though I’m nowhere near those senior years: “Ka letsatsi le leng le wena o tla tsofala, o tla nghopola.”