I thought my foot would be in my mouth less as I got older.
Wrong.
Today I went out to lunch with two octogenarians, one nonagenarian and someone who is only twenty years my senior.
The anecdotes were fab and, unusually, no one fell asleep in their meal.
As I was leaving I mentioned to Len (93, former high school maths teacher, born in Poland) that George and I are planning a trip to Vienna for our wedding anniversary.
I asked him if he'd ever been there?
"Yes, once," he answered.
I asked him excitedly if he'd liked it?
"Not really," he said, "I was in a labour camp."
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