I swear to God Worthing gets more and more like a George. A. Romero movie every time I go down there. Every bus journey is dominated by the walking dead. The dribbling Zombies of poor B-Movies, the ones that grunt and fart and growl and push you.

Don't get me wrong I like old people, I just couldn't eat a whole one. I like them when they smell like lavender, offer me polo mints and talk about the war. I DO NOT LIKE THEM when they grunt, truff, huff, puff, groan, moan, whinge, pinch, glare, stare and mumble next to you. I don't like it when they think you owe them a living. Perhaps we do owe them a living, in a small way, but we're not all gum chewing muggers in hooded tops. Some of us are respectable pillars of the community too. (ha ha not me though - stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Grandma!)

Rocker's Granny is 94 years old and the most remarkable person you ever could meet. She's fiercely independant still and you can slag off old people to her and she nods wisely and says things like "oh, I know dear".

I don't consider her one of the walking dead. She's brilliant. Because she hasn't given up on life like the Polyester Crew. She still has something to smile about, she still wears hot pink cardigans and encourages naughty behaviour. She rules.