Can’t even get over a bit of a gate anymore. There was a time when I’d tumble over the gate, head first, throwing the rest of the body over, like a rag doll. Well nowadays, even though I pride myself in being fit like a fiddle, I tend to climb over the gate upright. Could it be modesty (after all I was wearing a skirt)? Could it be fear that I might break a bone or land on my head? Or could it just “Auld Age”? There we were, the two of us, holding on for dear life trying to get over a simple gate down the fields like a pair of grannies and not even one grandchild between us.