THEY SAY 50 is the new 30, but the average age in the queue for the Over 50s Show at the RDS was surely close to 70.
As a mere 50-something, I felt like a young wan.
Inside the main hall, I was confronted by a dizzying array of people who were keen to relieve me of the entrance fee - and plenty more besides.
Here - at the three-day show, which finished yesterday - were herbal remedies, step aerobics machines, sexy underwear.
Travel agents were tripping over themselves to sign me up for spa breaks and safaris and watercolour weekends. I could have had a health screening or a tarot card reading. I could become a published author. I could buy property in Lanzarote. I could buy Energy-Wipe magic cloths for cleaning windows or Step Forward magic foot correctors.
The Department of Social Affairs and Citizens' Information was here to help me with my civil rights, while Voluntary Service Overseas and the St Vincent de Paul would be happy to engage my services in the service of others.
As I hesitated near the Yakult stand, which was giving away probiotic yogurt by the bucketload, a representative of the Financial Services Ombudsman dashes forward and thrusts a leaflet and a rather natty souvenir biro into my hands.
At the Vita-Mix stand, a crowd was transfixed by a demonstration: How To Make Soup From Scratch (plus carrots, celery and cashew nuts) in Five Minutes. While we're waiting, the demonstrator runs up a batch of ice cream. She chucks a dash of Baileys into the mix. Then, almost casually, she threw in the price of her magic machine: €600. I almost choked on my soup.
Back in just a minute, I said, and shimmied to safety - only to fall into the hands of a soft-spoken saleswoman from Eyesential Beauty, who backs me on to a stool and begins to pat my under-eye area with "product".
It would take 10 years off me, she said, adding that she loved this particular trade fair - organised by the magazine Senior Times - because everyone is so relaxed and easygoing. When she hands me a mirror, my wrinkles are gone.
Wow! Compared to the magic mixer, the magic cream is a snip at €59.99. Eyeing me expertly, the lady from Eyesential does my other eye so I can wander around for a while and see how my new face feels. "But don't scratch," she warns, "or it will turn white on you." Batting my eyelids manfully I turned away - and almost tripped over two Yakult-drinkers who assured me they came here every year.
They were going to catch Sil Fox's comedy act in the presentation theatre, then get a cup of tea. "It's a great day out," they assured me. I nodded doubtfully. As I did, I caught sight of an enormous poster across the hall. "AMD could take your sight in only ONE year," it declared. Oh, God. I had never even heard of age-related macular degeneration. Now I knew it was skulking in my future.
Meanwhile, back in the present, an advertisement for a chiropractic clinic nudged my elbow. "Neckache?" it suggested. "Backache? Headache? Whiplash. . . ?"
As the crowds thickened, I began to lose the will to live.
My eyes had set solid and though a quick check in the bathroom mirror confirms that I actually did look younger, I felt as if I had been crying for a month. I was also feeling slightly queasy.
Well, at least I know why it was called the Over 50s Show. I feel like 50 alright. Going on 80.
