An elderly man came up to me last week and said something I haven't heard in years: "Excuse me young lady ..."

Unaccustomed as I am to that description I took no notice until The Mother nudged me. "He means you!" she hissed. And he did.

Let me give you some advice. If you want to feel years younger forget all about expensive facelifts and rejuvenating skin creams. Book yourself a coach excursion around the Home Counties instead.

If you're under 50 you'll feel like a toddler and if you're a smidgen over you'll be treated like a teenager.

Even The Mother alleged the driver (a man of prehistoric vintage) had been winking at her as we alighted at the 'comfort stop'.

"He probably had some grit in his eye," I said, before she got carried away.

It was The Mother's idea we should go. She wanted to see some stately pile accessible only by car (which we don't have) or coach and thought how entertaining this would be for our Christmas guest, my American half-brother.

We had to make an early start and were on the road by 7.30am.

We drove round Brighton and Hove stopping to pick up more passengers, all white-haired and slightly unsteady on their feet - but then so am I at 7.30am.

"Have you booked us on an Age Concern outing?" I whispered to The Mother who pretended to be dozing.

I moved to another seat and joined my sibling. Immediately in front of him sat a sweet old couple who held hands and shared a bag of liquorice allsorts.

"Isn't that nice?" said my brother. "They've obviously been married for years yet they're still so affectionate towards each other."

"They may well be married - but not to each other," I replied cynically. "She was on the bus when we boarded in Brighton and he got on at Hove Town Hall."

"Well I still think it's nice," said my brother, but that's the trouble with Americans. They tend to be sentimental.

I sat with The Mother again. Behind her another elderly couple were bickering. They probably are married, I thought.

The disagreement centred on our destination. According to the husband, the couple had never been there before. His wife thought otherwise.

"It was ten years ago and I did some shopping and got those slippers in the market for Barbara," she insisted.

The husband was having none of it and the bickering continued until we arrived at our 'comfort stop'.

Do you realise we're the only people who haven't got white hair?" I said to my brother as the other passengers headed for the lavatories. "We must easily be the youngest on that bus."

"Great!" said my brother. "It's years since I've been the youngest anything, anywhere!"

That thought certainly put a spring in our step that day. After several hours of sightseeing we drove back to Brighton with snoring on all sides.

We, however, sat giggling, sharing a pizza and some cheap plonk we'd bought. It's wonderful to be young, isn't it?

Unfortunately it didn't last long. After the coach dropped us in the centre of Brighton we caught a local bus home. It was very full.

"Here, have this seat," said a teenage girl standing up as we stood in the aisle. I thought she was talking to The Mother but she was addressing me.

Suddenly I aged 20 years in two seconds.