George stumbled through the doorway and collapsed in a chair.
"You're back," commented Mistress Cooper. She was so used to her son's sudden appearances that she barely looked up from her sewing.
"Of course. Alanna would've come too but she's off visiting Alan's family with Thom, and Aly's involved in some secret business. But I wasn't about to miss you on your birthday." George walked over to his mother to plant a quick kiss on the top of her grey hair. "How old are you now? 29? 30?"
"83, as you know perfectly well," said his mother, playfully shoving her son back into his chair.
An indignant look crossed George's face. "Hey, I walked all the way here, so don't go shoving my poor aching back!"
"Ah!" exclaimed his mother. "Now you know how ageing feels!" She allowed herself a small cackle at her son's expression.
"Tell me, mother dear," he drawled, "Is there anything good about getting old?"
"Why, of course," she said slyly. "No peer pressure."