Is it the best policy?

At first glance, there is not a lot about the ageing process that would cause somebody in their 20s (me) to become impatient with the passage of time.

The sagging skin, the bald head, the creaky knees, the tiring engine that each day finds it that bit harder to keep the old motor moving.

To the virile young buck or vivacious young cuddy, the physical manifestations of maturity seem like one of Mother Nature’s cruellest pranks.

Which is really saying something, because cruel pranks are sort of her specialty.

But, while there is undoubtedly truth to the irony that those lucky enough to live long lives also inherit the perverse privilege of watching their bodies break down, old age is not without its silver linings… which, coincidentally, is the name of the luxury incontinence knickers this column has been sponsored by.

Joking aside, though, getting older is not all about losing things. The sandman is a master of sleight of hand. As he takes from you with one, he gives with the other.

One of the most freeing gifts he grants is a newfound capacity for honesty. And, like everything that is truly unfettered and uninhibited, it can be powerful, liberating… and dangerous.

In my life, I have had the good fortune of getting to know all four of my grandparents, as well as sharing a highly- improbable existential overlap with two great grannies.

All were – and one remains – honest in a way no younger person could ever be.

At some point, age emancipates you from the shackles of other people’s opinions.

All of my grandparents seemed quite uninterested in what others thought of them.

I can’t imagine any ever suffered fools gladly. But, in their later years, that refusal to put up with rubbish became ruthless.

If any of them were displeased with the cut of the person in front of them, they wouldn’t hesitate to let them know.

For example, when I was younger, I used to hear about people being ‘chased’ and ‘roaded’ all the time.

The reason these words were so commonly used in our house was because none of my grandparents – or other relatives of their generation – would have had the slightest compunction about putting somebody out of their house if they found fault with their manners, attitude, or line of conversation.

Maybe I am wrong, but I just don’t think younger people have the substance required get rid of an unwelcome guest by abruptly announcing that it is time for them to go.

You can’t imagine some trendy guy in his 30s standing up and saying, “Right. Stop talking, pour your tea down the sink, and get out of my house.”

To me, that ability to terminate such an unappreciated interaction is enviable.

My ma recently told me about a phrase frequently favoured by her grandmother, Agnes McKernan, who I used to visit on occasion.

Apparently, when Aggie, as they called her, was unhappy with something you did or said, she would preface her criticism with the following statement: “I am just going to say this to you, and I don’t care if you like it or not.”

I am reliably told that, in the thousands of times Aggie spoke these signature words, not once did anybody ever like what she said.

They usually cried, or argued with her, or both.

It turns out this Aggieism was more a warning to brace yourself than it was an attempt to convey that an ambivalent, but potentially contentious, opinion was on its way.

It was her way of saying, “You definitely are not going to like what you are about to hear, but you have to hear it.”

Though they are sometimes going to come off as rude, inconsiderate and downright insulting, you have to see the value in having somebody in your life so willing to tell you what they really think.

Not long ago, I saw this expressed well on a birthday card on which the writer had praised the recipient by saying, “If there were not people like you around, the real world would get lost.”

I thought that was spot on.

Kindness brings comfort. Frankness provides the clarity.

After my ode to unvarnished truthfulness, I fear my fan mail may not be as flattering next week.