Frank (above, third from the left) will be 80 next month.
I’m hoping he doesn’t mind too much that I’ve let his cat out of the bag, but I thought you should know. Becoming eighty years old doesn’t happen every month, especially when you still work two days a week for a large and successful organisation, which Frank does. Which matters to him.
It matters to me because Frank, inadvertently, gave me my first big break into middle management. He was a head of department in a large urban college, and had just turned sixty-five. In those days no one had heard of age discrimination, nor dreamt that retirement ages could soon push towards seventy. In fact, most people seemed to leave at fifty-five and take ten years’ worth of pension enhancement with them. Happy days. So Frank retired, just a few months past the then national retirement age for…
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