What happens to us as we get older?

I've had a few bad days in work this week with breakdowns, staff problems, upset customers but probably just because I'm a bit worked up about the move to my new house next week. It has all reminded me of the time many, many years ago when as a sulking 15 year old I had to go on my last ever holiday with my parents. I spent most of that week in Cornwall making sure everyone knew I had the hump and didn't want to be there. One day however we all went to a little Cornish seaside town. I can't remember the name of the town but it was a bit of a touristy type place, possibly Mevagissey. There were a few little stalls along the sea front selling bric a brac and knick knacks (is that right?) You (who?)know the things I mean tripe like bead necklaces and painted seashells, this was around 1971 and so not as commercialised as these days. These stalls were run by what I suppose you'd call drop-outs. Hippy types, not young, who I imagined earnt enough during the season to sustain themselves during the winter months. They had long hair, suntanned faces, jeans and collarless mutton-cloth shirts with little bracelets and the occasional ear-ring. I'm 54 now and those blokes still pop into my mind every now and then. God I wish I had the confidence to do it.