A much older friend recently told me that she’s in the best decade of her life so far. In her seventies, she’s launched a small business and she’s become a grandmother. I get the feeling that this second role, which involves one full day a week of childcare, is infinitely the most precious.

This is the century of the grandparent. As we live longer, there are more over-65s on the planet than under-5s. The ranks of the “retired but not tired” are growing, many in much better health than their forebears. Today’s teenagers are more likely than ever to have a living grandparent, some of whom may in turn still have a parent alive.

Pensioners often get short shrift. If they’re not written off as interfering do-gooders or Nimbys, then they’re portrayed as boomer maniacs, cruising the world on towering ships that blot out the sun, guzzling Prosecco and the kids’ inheritance. My favourite character in the film The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel is Madge, the rebel grandmother played by Celia Imrie, who escapes an eternity of babysitting duties by flouncing off to India and having affairs.