It is perhaps appropriate there is a bit of a kerfuffle going on at the moment over the various attributes of different generations.
And If you stick with me to the end, you'll see there is a link between the kerfuffle and this week's tale involving the royal and ancient pastime of golf and a young newcomer to the craft.
But first, the news. If you missed it - maybe you've been out in the shed tinkering or you've been out power walking with the girls and planning your next wine tasting - the kerfuffle (isn't that a superb word!) basically involves a classic put down in Parliament by a young MP.
The exact details escape me but I gather in response to some heckling from an older parliamentarian she uttered the immortal phrase "OK Boomer", as in Baby Boomer as in Oldie.
It seems the phrase is the new "Whatever", formerly the go-to comeback of stroppy teenagers angry with the state of everything and convinced everyone had it in for them.
Anyway, the said new phrase has resulted in much reaction with a fair chunk of us with lots of grey follicles reacting indignantly.
Comments have followed which basically suggest children should be seen and not heard.
Hmmm. Didn't that same view bug us big time when we were that age?
We knew we had a right to be heard and just because our elders were, well, elder, didn't mean they were right.
Aren't we lucky we grew up and turned into our grandparents. Society needs a certain number of people to be indignant letter writers and commentators.
Best of 2019: Kevin Page: 2400 seconds of embarrassment
Naturally when we have departed others will move into that role. Probably even a certain young MP currently in Wellington. Such is the cycle of life.
For now my cycle of life involves the game of golf as mentioned above and a kid who has been playing with me and my fellow experts for the past six months or so.
He has some definite ability and we have been only too pleased to help him out with a few of the finer points of the game - mainly who buys the beers (or in his case Coke) when you miss a putt or, god forbid, the ball altogether.
Recently this youngster beat us all for the first time.
To be honest it shouldn't be that much of a surprise. Many of us have girth measurements in three figures and cabinets full of anti-inflammatories at home.
Anyway, as I say, the kid beat us. But a week later he developed a wicked slice in his golf swing and his game fell apart.
This was the opportunity for some of our membership to pounce. To put the kid in his place perhaps. To tell him what he was doing wrong - even though he has become an obviously better golfer.
So for a few weeks the kid was subjected to truckloads (or rather golf carts full) of advice.
Stand further away, move this leg forward, drop that elbow, don't look down, breathe through your nose etc etc.
And all imparted with the solemn wisdom of an oldie who, well, just knows better because it's the law.
I have to say I didn't join the Agony Aunts and offer any advice. It was just confusing the kid. When I played with him we talked about his plans for the future, school. All that sort of stuff. He seemed to relax more.
In the past week or so his slice has straightened out and he's back to playing well and beating us.
Naturally most of our membership is taking the credit for sorting him out.
I asked him the other day whether he thought he'd benefited from all the advice.
He shook his head and smiled. One of those OK Boomer grins. Apparently it was all a question of just feeling in a better headspace to solve the problem
And what had he done instead of taking all the advice from his elders?
He'd bought a new hat.
• Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to firstname.lastname@example.org .