A COUPLE of weekends ago, I was tasked with changing my in-laws’ kitchen light bulb. It was one of those long fluorescent tubes that makes a funny sound when you switch it on: you know, a kind of “dinky-dinky-dink” that takes you right back to childhood. Whenever I hear it, I’m eight years old and standing in my gran’s neighbour’s kitchen, in 1970s orange.

It looked complex, but given the choice between this and taking my father-in-law to Tesco, I opted for the Krypton Factor test. It went something like this.

We get the tube out. It’s covered in at least a decade’s worth of cooking grease, and all the dead insects that had got trapped therein. There’s no way I’m letting that into my handbag, so I take a few snaps and head to my local hardware shop to find out if they are even still for sale.

They are, in many lengths. Top tip: measure your tube. Even though I haven’t, an in-depth discussion with a knowledgeable member of staff ascertains that I need an old-style four-foot tube, and that I might also need a new starter, which I can buy in Truro’s fabulous pannier market. I wander home with something sticking out of my handbag that, with a sharp turn, could take out someone’s eye, or at the very least a well-stocked china department.

I get home to find the tube doesn’t work, so I pop down to the pannier market for a starter. The electricals chap tells me where to find it on the fitting, and gives me another tube just in case the first one was a dud. For the second time, I head home with the equivalent of a light sabre or bayonet poking out of my bag. The man in the pasty shop tells me he has one at home: “We don’t touch it. I worry just looking at it will cause it to shatter.”

It's second time lucky, and we all cheer. This, I think, is what it was like for God at the start of the Creation: “And there was light.” I feel invincible, like I could solve all the world’s problems. Wouldn’t that be great?

These little things serve to make me feel grown-up. Also on that list are: cooking a roast dinner and being told my roasties are “The Best”; burying a dead pet; knowing the names of and the difference between a flathead and a Phillips screwdriver; and holding my daughter’s hand when she has her travel vaccinations.

Far more things just make me feel old. The sudden urge to watch Call the Midwife (what next: People’s Friend?); ticking the age box on a survey and realising the next one up is the last; a colleague’s birth year beginning with a 2 (that’s you, James Davies); having to cross my legs before I sneeze (TMI?)

There’s the realisation the celebs you find attractive are getting increasingly older themselves. Then the penny drops that the actor who caught your eye in EastEnders is perennial pantomime Buttons Brian Conley (NOTE TO SELF: you might want to edit this one out).

Do I even need to mention memory loss? (NOTE TO SELF: really, don’t forget to edit out that bit about fancying Brian Conley).

Then there are the famous people who you remember as being young and dewy but are now, like you, bearing the signs of age and incurring the wrath of social media. Thorn Birds actress Rachel Ward has been decried as “ravaged”, while former Bangle Susanna Hoffs set the cat among the pigeons by daring to step out without make-up, looking like a gran. To be fair, at 67, she might well be one.

In both cases, their husbands look equally old, but no one seems that bothered – on the contrary, they are silver foxes (NOTE TO SELF: have you made that Brian Conley edit yet?)

I recall how, in my 20s, anyone over 30 seemed ancient. I’m now in my 50s with one foot (possibly even both) in the grave. AI Overview tells me "feeling old" isn't just about age; it's “a complex mix of biology, mindset and life experiences, often hitting us hardest between the 40s and 60s”. You know, when our hormones are raging, our bodies are creaking and our loved ones are preparing for their final days.

But there’s a part of you that doesn’t age. It’s the part that doubts, even though you thought you should have known all the answers by now; or giggles at silly jokes, or calls your partner by a daft nickname, partly because it embarrasses the kids. How juvenile. “No, Mum, that just makes you old,” says Daughter.

Anyway, I must be off. There was something I needed to remember to do. What was it again? Change another lightbulb? Never mind - it’ll come to me in time…