Getting older means taking a tumble raises more concerns

One of the more popular descriptions of this, especially for men, is you believe in Santa Claus, you don't believe in Santa Claus, you are Santa Claus, you look like Santa Claus.

Another involves the way people react when we take a tumble.

We expect a toddler to fall down, and quickly encourage them to get up, dust themselves off, and keep going with their day.

When people get a little older a fall is treated as something funny, causing laughter and amusement among witnesses.

And then there is the age where falls become serious business, prompting hushed conversations in darkened corridors, and serious comments like, "Grumpy has had a fall" as all nod in united concern.

And I fear I might have fallen into that final category - if you will excuse the pun.

Recently I was walking along a beach and stepped on a rock that proved more slippery than a seasoned politician with a whiteboard.

The result was something that could have won someone a small fortune on one of those funniest home video shows, had someone been there with a camera to record the action of flailing arms and legs as I fought to regain balance and not land on the offending slime-covered rock.

Now, I thought the fall was funny, as I put myself in the age category where that was still the case.

But it seems I was mistaken, as others on the beach clearly put me in the final category, the one of falls being potentially a major issue, as they rushed up to offer assistance and even call for an ambulance.

There I was, just trying to brush the wet sand off myself, and people I'd never met were asking if I needed to go to hospital.

It seemed a bit of a overreaction, but it got me thinking that maybe I have reached the age where such concern is warranted.

If so I'm in big trouble, because I'm basically the Jar Jar Binks of my family, and in recent years have had a few incidents that could be described as nasty falls.

Like the time I was chasing my grandchildren around the house as they giggled and squealed, but then my ankle decided it wanted no part of this foolishness, and decided to simply vanish when I was mid-stride, sending me head-first into a point where two walls met.

Or the time I was playing volleyball and was getting frustrated by my teammates lack of energy or enthusiasm to chase a ball that was still in play, so when a ball went flying off the court I ran after it as fast as I could, stretched out and belted it back towards the net, and smashed my head into the wall that I didn't see because I was focused on the ball.

Hmm, so looking back I get the feeling that maybe a trip to the hospital is warranted before my next fall.