There's an advert in the UK which gives the following statistic ' 37% of women feel more attractive now than they did 10 years ago.' I would like to meet these women. I would then like to hit them.

I am 51. I do not feel more attractive than I did 10 years ago. And quite right. I am not more attractive than I was 10 years ago. And when I was 41 I did not look more attractive than I did 10 years previously. This may be sad. It is also true.

The aforementioned advert implies that this sense of increased attractiveness ,self confidence and self worth comes from the cream. I think it must have come from cosmetic surgery. I can think of no other reason.

Anyway I am now planning to start a new gym regime so that when I am 61 I can feel fitter than I do at 51. This, however, is a low target to achieve.

Holidays

I have just returned from a holiday as the photograph might have indicated. My holidays are normally not very different from every day life. I rise early, pull together an agenda for the day and achieve these objectives. It is just that holiday objectives are, well, more enjoyable than work objectives. Nonetheless I hare around - fitting in museums, galleries, exhibitions, - and return stuffed full of culture and a much better person for it I am sure. I am generally also stuffed full of food and wine and a much worse person for that.

This holiday was different. There was nothing to do. Having worked this out in advance I returned to childhood behaviour when I would take my bag of toys on any trip. My toys are different but they come with me all the same and now have the additional disadvantage of costing me excess baggage. So I headed off with books ( no I have not bought an e reader yet), embroidery, knitting, stationery, ipod, camera, gym kit (I hate the gym and don't go when not on holiday), swimming costume etc almost rigid with fear lest I pass a minute of the week not occupied in some way.

The hotel was wonderful and, due to a combination of low season, recession and volcanic ash, remarkably quiet. I found myself relaxing. I heard my heart rate slow down. I did play with all my toys but I also found that I didn't have to be achieving things every minute of every day. Almost every minute - but I could chill for quite a few minutes. It was a life lesson. It was one I hope to repeat. Soon.

Running the marathon

Sunday morning and I switch on the tv. Am still in bed and feeling chilled. Watch a documentary about a man who decides to train for the marathon and see if he has the genetic ability and mental determination to run 26.2 miles in under 2 hours and 20 minutes. I watch him as the cameras follow his trials, tears and tribulations. He loses 4 stones in weight and becomes a fitter, leaner and more focussed version of his former self. I do feel inspired. I then get out of bed and breakfast is a dish of the trifle left over form last last dinner with friends.

At some point I need to get a grip. I will go for a long walk this afternoon. It's not, admittedly, running 26.2 miles but, equally, it's not sitting on the sofa either.

Literary Festivals

I have just returned from a couple of days at ' Ways with Words' at Southwold in Suffolk. At the best of times Southwold is a delightful place to be. Add to it the joys of a literary festival and there is no better place to be. I listened, rapt, to Libby Purves, Polly Toynbee and Michael Buerk. Not at the same time you understand, although that might have been interesting.

I am reminded why I am a reader , not a writer and an introverted thinker and not a speaker. I was as happy in the audience as each of them appeared on stage.

The audiences were, roughly, 70/30 female to male ratio. The questions asked by the audience 95/5 male to female ratio. I am constantly reminded that men are talkers more than listeners and women otherwise inclined.

I didn't ask a question because I was too happy basking in the words I had just heard. I certainly had no thought that the speakers would have been interested in my mundane views of the subject they had studied and inhabited for many months , if not years, and yet many in the audience felt no such inhibitions. I admire such a trait in others but do not wish it for myself.

Nothing could have made me happier than I was in that small hall. And certainly not asking a question. I had been given more than enough to mull over. And so am I doing.

sloth

It is undeniably true that the less one does the less one wants to do and does ........and so it continues. Over the last few week ends I have chosen to take up a fairly new hobby for me - sloth. This involves sitting ( if not lying) in my armchair with the heating on and doing very very little. I have been tuned to ITV3 and have seen more episodes of Poirot, Morse, Midsomer Murders then I would have thought possible. IT has been quite delightful. The first week end I did this I felt guilty and that I had wasted time. I no longer feel this. I have fought against this feeling and have beaten it soundly. I am currently reading Tom Hodgkinson's excellent book, ' How to be Idle'. It is all the encouragement I need.

Should the sloth become tedious I languidly reach over and pick up my scarf and knit a few rows. This make me feel I am being creative and I return for much needed rest to my former position in the armchair.

This new lifestyle is to be recommended. Frequently and with much dedication.

Men in Womens' Changing Rooms

So I am in a clothes shop which has two changing rooms - just two stalls curtained off in the main part of the shop. As I queue for one to become available I watch a man ( I assumed ' the husband') gently and discretely pull the curtain back and peer into one of the changing rooms. ' Oh no,' says he in a none too quiet voice, 'that's far too tight. You need a size 16 or even an 18.'

Where to begin? As our US neighbours would proclaim - 'That is wrong on so many levels.'
As I heard this I realised that had I been that woman I would have been searching in my bag for my phone to call my divorce lawyer. On the spot.

Women know when clothes are too tight. Trust me, we know. We don't need it pointed out. We especially don't need it pointed out by our husbands, in a public place, in a loud voice.

I then went into the dressing room next to this woman in tight clothing and realised I was becoming rather irate on her behalf and wondered, yet again, why some women put up with the husbands they appear to have chosen of their own free will. I then heard his voice again. This time he was talking to someone fast approaching my cubicle. ' Oh you can't go in there - I just saw a young woman go in there to try on clothes.' As someone who has , in the last few weeks, become eligible for the full range of Saga products and services, I regret to say I felt myself simper. My view of him changed immediately.....but I was relieved that he didn't stick his head into my changing room. On so many levels.

The best part of the day

Most of the world I inhabit sleeps on this morning and I enjoy the peaceful quiet. I awaken early because of thoughts but decide to use the time and have a variety of choices - do I read, write, embroider, knit....a world of exciting opportunities lies ahead. Such is the bliss of a middle aged woman's life. Far from becoming a grumpy old woman ( or at least being reticent about admitting to it) I find myself slipping into a world of delight at things in my youth I mocked in a knowing manner. And really not caring what anyone thinks. It's the liberation of middle age.