The offending claim was in a Short Take a couple of weeks ago in this paper by a Cindy Grahame, of Newcastle, who wrote that even in my twilight years I managed to be irksome, which did seem to be a little odd given that, surely, I'd be better at being irksome as I gained more experience at being irksome.

But why would Ms Grahame or anyone else refer to me as in my twilight years? The answer, of course, is that she was attacking me, trying to reduce me, and that she believes confining me to the twilight bin helps achieve that. But, first, what is the twilight of life? And am I there yet?

I'd never given much or any thought to what defines life's twilight but I assume it refers to a dimming of faculties as in the dim light of twilight, that half hour or so before sunrise and after sunset. As well it may mean the last gasp of life, as in the last gasp of the night or the day.

When my mother was 94 and I was driving her to my home, shortly after she let her licence expire, she told me that she was in the twilight of her life, and I replied that if she was not there yet she was getting close. She turns 97 in a couple of months and we would both agree that she has arrived.

So, 95?

I'm 68 and surely not at that twilight stage where my faculties are dim, although the internet tells me that in many countries people of my age are seen as elderly and in the twilight of life, which seem to be synonymous.

In the first couple of decades of my work in journalism, by the way, people were often described as elderly from the age of 50.

My belief that the term twilight of life refers to someone with dimming faculties and in the last gasp of life seems to fit with Ms Grahame's position, that even with dim faculties and in the last gasp of my life I can be irksome, and I hope that when I am in the twilight I can be irksome if I want to be.

In my column that Ms Grahame found so irksome, a column about the jobs I'd had outside journalism, I had not the slightest intention of getting up anyone's nose.

What matters, however, is not whether I am in the twilight of life, but why Ms Grahame describes me as such, and as I wrote earlier the apparent reason is that she is seeking to discredit me. Successfully, I'll admit.

The value of the opinions of people in Australia's dominant white culture erode from about age 50, and by age 68, as suggested by Ms Grahame, that value is worth as much as dust. That's neatly illustrated in the trite ode by white Australians to honour past, present and even future Aboriginal elders, yet when a white Australian turns 100 the only advice we want from him or her is how to get to 100.

Age has been overlooked by the white woke sun, which we can see in the high likelihood that Ms Grahame condemns sexism and racism but not, it seems, ageism.

She is not alone, not even among those of us disparaged by her as in the twilight of life. At every age I have had prejudices against people of other ages, and even while I acknowledge those prejudices I hold that they were not without reasonable foundation. Not even with the life experience and wisdom of 68 years.

Today, for example, when I see a young person, or at least a person I see as young, on television interpreting matters of finance or politics or such a little voice in my head will whisper that he, or especially she, is a lightweight. If he or she comes up with a good line or argument, the little voice will tell me that they must have pinched that from an older person, probably someone my age.

Remember Greta Thunberg? Opinions worth as much as those of the children chanting slogans while marching with their parents in public protests.

When your faculties are as honed as those of people my age we prefer to harvest diversity from people with a gravitas similar to our own.

We're even handed in our prejudices. Just because we're ageing, or as some would say elderly, or as Ms Grahame says in the twilight of life, doesn't mean that we don't discriminate against old people. Like everyone we discriminate against people who are older, and in my case the prejudice is entirely reasonable.

It's reasonable because the geriatrics we dismiss as something less than equal are from an era best forgotten, riddled with antiquated beliefs and opinions that were long ago discarded as rubbish by the modern society people my age created. Created almost single handed, I should add.

Cindy Grahame would be viewed more positively by the people who matter most if she paid us the respect, appreciation, deference and admiration we deserve.

Jeff Corbett is a former Newcastle Herald journalist. He contributes regular opinion columns to the pages of the Herald each week on Saturday.