The night my legs ran out on me

IN the course of a recent televised football match, a commentator, concerned about the effect the pace of the game might be having on a player of advanced years, kept referring to the strain being imposed upon the player's "35-year-old legs."

I don't suppose I was the only viewer who heaved a wistful sigh and thought: "Oh, for a pair of 35-year-old legs." My present pair just about propel me to wherever I want to go, but it's scarcely a poem of power and grace. It's safe to say that the ...