I'm not clinging on to youth, I'm wringing every last drop out of life - Christa Ackroyd

I will eat them out of the paper of course and not too late in the day, because with getting older comes the inability to eat at silly o’clock. And that seems to get earlier with every passing year.

Paying over the odds to sit in an average restaurant eating food I can cook better myself, just because it’s flavour of the month, lost its appeal years ago. Lunch becomes more relevant than dinner. And for someone who could easily polish off a bottle of wine on her own, a cup of tea really does become the best drink of the day .

Oh whatever happened to being the bright young thing?

The truth is she is still here, slightly dimmed but not quite extinguished yet, even if you consider I now get ready for bed at around the same time I once got ready to go out.

And no, I don’t particularly like it while accepting there is not a damn thing I can do about it.

When it comes to getting older I am with Cher when she told Oprah “it sucks”.

“But what about all that wisdom you have found along the way,” she was asked. Her response in no uncertain terms was that it still sucked. And it does if you sit back and ponder your own mortality. But what good does that do anyone? And being here at any age is of course better than the alternative.

Today’s column is not about me and my birthday, it is about three shining examples of what it means if you are lucky enough to be given the gift of longevity.

Firstly, hats off to our dear King.

I have been deeply concerned about him. Cancer will affect one in two of us. I have had my own scare these last few months and now the tests have come back as all good I can scarcely believe my good fortune. I know I am one of the lucky ones and for that I count my blessings.

That the King is planning to get back in the saddle metaphorically and literally, as he wants to ride a horse at the annual trooping of the colour, is good news indeed.

What’s more it gives hope and strength to those going through the same difficult journey to never give up and never give in. I do like him. I always have and I always will. And when some of us are feeling increasingly creaky let’s not forget he got “the top job” well into his seventies. And wants to get back to it as soon as he can.

Then I turn to perhaps once of the most charming and inspirational men I have ever met, a man who is sadly no longer with us, but one whom I think about often.

Brendan Ingle was and remains a legend.

The boxing trainer who took young kids off the street and turned them into champions at his Sheffield gym was charisma personified. But his world wasn’t just about those who would bring him associated fame and fortune. Everyone at St Thomas’s gym was welcomed. There they would all be taught that discipline, being kind to others and education were paramount to living a good life. And boxing skills were a bonus.

To talk to Brendan was always an uplifting experience. Self deprecating. “I am as thick as three short planks” he would say, knowing he was far from it. Interested in everyone and every thing, “the most important thing you can give anyone is your time and experience.” Everyone in boxing and in Yorkshire knew and admired Brendan Ingle. He expected the best of us all.

But even Brendan Ingle, could never have imagined his reincarnation as movie superstar. Or the fact that of all the people to play him it would be fellow Irishman, 007 himself, Pierce Brosnan.

And I think he would have been tickled pink. I can almost hear him now in an imaginary interview saying well of course they picked him Christa, he’s almost as good looking as me.

Brendan Ingle was in his late seventies when he died six years ago. And what thrills me the most about the film, centred on his training of Prince Naseem Hamed, is that it it will immortalise a man who remained true to himself and to others until the day he left us.

The twinkle in his eye, had he lived to see his screen persona, would have told us there is nothing wrong with being proud of your achievements providing you use them not to boast but to give others a leg up when they need it. And that age is no barrier to that.

And so to my final birthday hero, a woman who constantly reminds me that life is for living, that it is too short to sit down and say I have done enough.

Rita Britton is this year celebrating 80 years on this planet. She was the Barnsley girl who in the sixties drove down to London in her dad’s painters and decorators van and brought samples from Mary Quant to sell to factory girls. Then she brought the best the world has to offer to her home town and beyond with the principle, buy once and buy for life.

For fifty years Pollyanna’s in Barnsley was quoted in the fashion bibles as being synonymous with any exclusive store in London. But Rita never altered. As fashions changed she reminded steadfastly the same.

Reet to her friends, of which I count myself one, has not been in the best of health in recent years. Perhaps, now she thought was the time to sit back and leave it to others. She hated it.

Within a few short months she is back, every bit as focussed and raring to go as she ever was, with a range of clothing which will be made and sewn in Barnsley while pushing for college courses from pattern cutting to tailoring before it’s too late and we just accept every will be made abroad while we lose what were world beating skills.

I love Rita and women like her, defying convention and expectations. “I tried retirement” she says “and decided it was not for me.”

I do not believe that age is but a number. It’s more than that. But the higher the number climbs there are a certain kind of people who get stronger, more determined and more motivated along the way.

It’s not about clinging on to youth. It’s about wringing every last drop out of life. So happy birthday to me. This year is going to be a good one.