Driving Miss Daisy

I don't blame them. It's not their fault. They just don't know.

They have the best of intentions, with my well-being to the fore. That's why they've invited me to the Houses of Parliament.

I thought that'd make you sit up. Me being invited to the seat of our democracy, the mother of all Parliaments, where ma'am visits on occasion to make sure her Royal Household bills get paid.

I'm invited to a reception to be held in the Jubilee Hall next Tuesday- celebrating Walthamstow's Older Residents. Tea and coffee will be provided and we've the pleasure of being addressed by Liz Kendall MP, Shadow Minister for Care and Older People. Oh, and if I can manage it can I bring a cake along - wonder how that'll be treated by security?

I didn't know we had a Minister for Care and Older People, let alone a shadow. I'm sure she's well meaning and has got used to the smell of dried wee and poo by now. I managed to look her up on the Internet thingy - Gobble or something like that - she's quite nice looking and was born not very long ago. She's young enough to have missed T Rex, The Osmonds and Middle of the Road, so there's something to be said for youth.

I'm sure she's a darling, and very good at what she does, but why can't they appoint someone into her post with some experience of being "older". I don't know - Dennis Skinner or Gordon Brown - he must be at a loose end. And I feel rather upset finding myself being shuffled into the Care and Older People category.

The thing is I think the younger ones, the Daves, Georges and Teresas don't really know what to do with us older ones. I mean we're an important block of votes and increasingly so, but we're getting to be rather too expensive. Keeping us working until we drop down dead is one way of cutting costs and the Gov't are on track to deliver that by 2040.  

They've woken up to the fact that many of us will just go on and on and on and on...Still driving at 80, cluttering up the supermarket aisles seeking out cheap bottles of wine and hummus in a vain attempt to rekindle memories of that holiday in Crete at the height of the Minoan civilisation. Or humming "All the Young Dudes" in the loos as we stare for hours at the porcelain waiting for the diuretics to kick in.

It's a massive social policy issue - what to do with us. It must be tempting to bundle us all up, charter a very large fleet of cruise liners and send us all on a perpetual cruise. Nothing too elaborate, just circling the Isle of Wight or Isle of Man continuously with regular comfort breaks, and Jimmy Tarbuck.

But honestly I don't think the young ones have a clue. That's why we have a Minister for Care and Older People: it's a non job title.

However, I'm sure when I meet Liz, she'll try not to be too condescending or worry overly about the remains of my lunch on my jumper.