Conned by my Nanna.

I once visited my Nan in Corowa, the winery town that she retired to. I went with my girlfriend in her mother's MG Midget sports car, which we borrowed for the weekend. Unlike other occasions (when I drove my old Honda Civic), my Nan asked if I could drive her somewhere.

I drove, she navigated. But even though she knew the town quite well, she kept saying 'Oh what was I thinking, this isn't the way. Turn around here.' I would dutifully pull into the driveway she pointed at, to execute a 3-point turn. And invariably a woman of a similar vintage to my Nan would peer out of the window at her, riding in the sports car in a scarf reminiscent of Jacqui Onassis. Once, out of the corner of my eye, I think I spied my Nan give a cheeky wave to her peering peer.

Bless her. I guess that's when I realised that we grow old, but thankfully we never really grow up.