Ben Machell is finally old enough not to care

If you’re ever worried that you’ve not been spending enough time contemplating your own mortality, then I can definitely recommend tearing your hamstring on the eve of your 35th birthday.

This happened to me recently and, ever since, I’ve been laid-up, bag of frozen broccoli strapped to my leg, wrestling with all kinds of existential questions: have I used up the last of my youth? Am I drifting inexorably towards the grave? Can I safely re-freeze this broccoli or has it already gone a bit manky? That kind of stuff.

None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for the two Ecuadorian lads who’ve been coming down to my Friday night six-a-side game. If you play regular football in London, you’ll know the routine: some foreign kids show up on the touchline, shyly watching week after week until you invite them to play and, within a few games, they’re swearing at you in perfect English. Heartwarming stuff. Only, these two Ecuadorians are young and fast, and as I was chasing after one of them my poor hammy went ‘Pop!’ and that was that.

Stuck on my settee, feeling old and worn, I began to get very bitter towards anyone younger than me. For some weird reason — perhaps I was in a delirium of pain — I began to obsess over the fact that young people today rarely have to help push a stranger’s car. I got very angry about it. When I was in my teens and 20s, barely a day went by that I wasn’t flagged down in order to shove a clapped-out Escort, Cavalier or Mini Metro. But kids today? Advances in motor engineering mean this hardly ever happens. I cursed them. Perhaps my hamstrings wouldn’t be so worn if I’d not spent so much time pushing cars? I seethed so much that steam came off the bag of broccoli.

Then I thought about the sheer ludicrousness of this and calmed down a bit. I reached for a magazine. I’ve recently subscribed to Warships International Fleet Review, which is all about warships. I’d wanted to subscribe to a magazine about warships for years but had never felt confident enough to do so for fear of being labelled ‘sad’ or ‘really sad’ by my peers. But now? Now I’m old enough not to care. I read an article about aircraft carriers and then drifted into a light doze. And it was lovely.