 And if you haven't, you'll fuss about your wig. Old habits die hard. Oh, God. Something to be depressed about? On the contrary, it shows a certain spiritual nobility. My Aunt Esther died on her 89th birthday, painted up to the eyes. Had she led a very giddy life? Lord, yes. Three husbands, strings of lovers. One of them was rumoured to be the stationmaster at Kittering.