My father recently went to a school reunion. Everyone there, like him, was in their seventies. Some had back problems, some had their joints giving up, some had diabetes ruining their meals and some had had multiple heart attacks. Everyone was dying.

But everyone also had full heads of nice black hair. Everyone was dyeing.

Some time ago, a somewhat unoriginal young man tried to goad me into a "debate" with him on his tiny and rather vile YouTube channel, presumably in pursuit of social capital. One of the things he managed to come up with to anger me into playing his game was a joke about my "receding hairline". Turns out, he was rather fond of the phrase and tried to stick it on another long-haired YouTuber later that month. I guess he didn't want all the mental labour he had put into creating that joke (I'm sure it took a lot out of him) to waste. I can appreciate the hustle, feeble as it may be.

My hairline has been receding for the better part of a decade now. I have been as bothered about it as I am about the population of Nicaragua. I have tried to colour neither my hair nor my beard, which has been turning a bright shade of silver for about just as long. I simply do not care. And I actually like looking older.