When I turned sixty I made some changes in my life. For a start, I stopped looking in the mirror, except when I had tweezers in my hand, and then I made sure I only looked at a square inch on my chin or between my brows. And I joined a Saturday afternoon walking club with women of my own age—women of a certain age—and explored some of the places I had been hearing about all my life but never seen. Red Rocks, for instance. And the Ataturk Memorial on the ridge above Tarakena Bay at the start of the…