Some Privileges Only Emerge When You Reach A Certain Age

Some of the privileges I currently have began as things almost everyone starts off with, and only became privileges the longer mine endured.

Like still having hair.

Recently a follically challenged man threw a jibe my way regarding my excessive cranial foliage. He implied that all the hair I got given must have landed in the same spot, and therefore the rest of my body must be mannequin smooth - devoid of all manly hairiness.

I didn't tell him he was right. Instead, I lifted his spirits by recalling the time I thought you could use shower gel as a substitute for hair gel because both products had the word 'gel' in them. I told him how the swagger in my step from showcasing my coiffed afro while ambling through Birkenhead Market soon turned to panicked scurrying as rain caused foam bubbles to suddenly start streaming down my forehead like I was sweating soap. This cheered the man up no end and it looked as though he felt a bit better about being bald.

But as well as those privileges we have which make others resent us, other privileges can sometimes make people pity you and even want to use you as a piece of technology. My height one such versatile example.

Shorter people breath sighs of relief not having to donate their face to rid doorways of ornate spider webs, and feel the wave of good fortune wash over them on the nightclub dance floor, glancing over to see the lone pitiful giant sticking out of the sweaty throng like Herman Munster, dancing like he's 5 feet 6.

But just an hour ago I realised that my height is also a privilege inexhaustible in its ability to not only give my life meaning, but also create a sense of community, bring people together and reaffirm the sentiment that we have to help each other if the world is to run smoothly.

I was in ASDA, again, walking down the soft drinks aisle, had picked up the cheapest drink when an old woman looking a bit embarrassed asked if I would use my height to fetch her a crate of Purdeys from the top shelf. I did and her face lit up! I may have even made a joke about the number of crates I should get down for her.

But it made me think, is this what she has to do every time she goes to ASDA and wants something from the top shelf??? No.... Her shopping trips must take forever and she didn't strike me as the kind of pensioner accustomed to scaling shelves like they were climbing frames.