Mindfull....... to over flowing...

'Twas in another life time, when I lived in New York, I would go over to 3rd Avenue to the Kiehl's store where they wore white lab coats and there was a motorbike in the shop and always a line outside. They had a no advertising policy, used brown paper bags and dolled out free samples on request regardless of whether you bought anything or not. Which was very clever because although the freebies were the perfect travel size you invariably did buy something big. And it was such gorgeous product you then told everyone you knew to go there too.

Now bought out by L'Oreal, there seems to be one on every other corner, including mine. It's not the same as it used to be but I do still like their products and they do still have samples, although you have to jump through a few hoops to get them. Anyways, having exhausted several samples.... from various stores... of their BB Cream, and having garnered many compliments of the 'don't you look dewy and fabulous' kind, I finally bought a tube. 

Then I lost it. But I knew it was in my bathroom because I'd used it that morning and discussed it's fabulously dewy affects with a friend I'd met for coffee. So it was in my home. Definitely. But where? With menopausal madness firmly in place , frankly it could be anywhere. I stared at the various tubes and jars in the cabinet where I knew I'd put it. Nothing. I took them all out and put them all back, just in case. Nothing. It's a very small bathroom so I searched it quite quickly. Nothing. The rest of the abode is not much bigger so it didn't take long to search that too. I checked the fridge of course, the freezer naturally, the plates and bowls cupboard, I even went behind the pots of spices and herbs. Absolutely nothing. No one had been in my home since I'd bought it except the son. Surely not, I thought. However, it was nowhere to be found, had I imagined I'd bought it? Had I been robbed by a niche-burglar? I really thought I was loosing my mind, as I emptied the kitchen trash. But I had bought it, it had to be somewhere, where could I possibly have put it? Unless I had gone mad. And then there it was, amongst the lemon peel and tea bags and egg shells. Somehow, I must have knocked it out of the bathroom cabinet and into the bathroom bin which I then emptied into the kitchen trash. The sense of joy and relief at finding my new purchase, along with my mind, caused much excitement and delirium.

Top tip: treat yourself to Kiehl's BB cream for super summer skin......

How do I know I'm getting old?

Let me count the ways........

I'm getting old because I like watching Michael Portillo on his train journeys....yes I know!

I'm getting old because I love sleeping in my own bed and have started saying things like, 'It's lovely to be home....'

I'm getting old because I'd rather buy one good bottle of wine than clank home with as many cheapies as I can carry.

I'm getting old because I collect empty jars and am extra happy when I acquire a particularly interestingly shaped one.

I'm getting old because I tut at the radio.

I'm getting old because I tut in general.

I'm getting old because I have a special stick for stirring paint.

Top tip: raclette cheese..... if you don't have the requisite grill just melt it onto a backed potato.... delicious!!

Some time to celebrate........

The birthday flowers are all dead, cake crumbed and gone, cards toppled and slid between books. Another year older but this time the wasp of age has lost its sting. It really doesn't matter. Instead I think more about what must be done than worry over what is undone. A job that lasted longer than it should has abruptly stopped. I shall not miss it but it kept me in good account and I shall miss that. The son that once I wondered may never manage to work the world is getting ready to go...... better late than never ...... and so all change. And still I feel OK. The Aegean sands of positivity may be slipping through my fingers but I have little time to mourn, there are doors opening all about me, some wide...... some just ajar. And people to see. And places to go. And there's always more cake......

Top tip: maintain that just-back-from-the-beach tan forever with Dove Summer Glow body moisturiser.....

How old??

I was mooching around Spitelfields Market the other day and a girl approached me and said, "Excuse me, do you have a minute? I'm doing an article for The Times about what it's like to be 40 today." I looked at her for a moment, trying to work out what she meant and than I laughed because I'm turning 50 next year. She apologised and said I looked great at which point I think I levitated, so happy was I to be thought of as a mere 40, a number I once feared. But that's nothing to ........I can't even say it.

I can't believe I'm 49. How did this happen? I feel like I'm only just getting started and now I've passed the half-way point and to be honest I'm not that happy about it because although I didn't exactly have a plan, I didn't plan this. I sort of thought growing old would equal growing up, with a proper husband, an ordered life instead of youthful chaos, holidays abroad and the joy of Radio 4's 'You & Yours'. But no. Instead of a blue rinse and sensible shows, I'm a single woman in skinny jeans and biker boots, crying into my Argentinean Malbec over the ex-boyfriend like a love sick 18 year-old, while my girlfriends run round with the roll-ups and lists of internet dating sites. I compete with the likes of my teenage son for tickets to festivals and the chance to spend three days in a damp field in some far-flung corner of England, dancing with my arms aloft because while Patti Smith and Annie Lennox are still at it, so too am I. 

In my head I think I'm about 25, it's just the body that has gaily gone on maturing. So just when you think you've got a handle on life, made enough mistakes to learn a few tricks, your knees give out, your back goes and you can't find your glasses. Another birthday used to mean another notch on the ever-expanding belt of middle age but not any more. Old bodies don't need to get bent out of shape while there's yoga and pilates and even yolates......don't ask......and although getting off the sofa is often accompanied by various creaks and groans, I can still do the downward dog, which is all that matters. 

The generation who sold us sex and drugs and rock and roll said we'd die before we were 30, a promise they failed to deliver. So, how does a girl proceed into her 50s? I don't feel I'm done yet and with Madonna and Kim Cattrall blazing a youthful trail, can women of a certain age still dance under the stars and shop in Top Shop?  Or are we deluding ourselves? This was never in the manuel........

Top tip for what to do with the very expensive leather handbag the ex-boyfriend gave you, that you don't want to use but just can't dump: paint it black, with shoe dye, and it's a brand new bag. Unless it's already black, then just get over it.