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It feels like only yesterday I was the youngest person in the room, I had my whole life in front of me. I had time to burn, I spent my whole day snogging boys and backcombing my hair. I was a young thing, with a lovely body, life was fun, and I hadn’t a care in the world. Now – it feels like two minutes later – I’m a little bit old. OK, I’m not in elasticated stockings or on Meals on Wheels whizzing down the stairs on my stairlift, but my life is more than half over. I’ve been there, done that, got the packamac. I’m so old that I remember dances with drum solos, the arrival of unisex hairdressers and had a crush on Ilya Kuryakin. I am up at the top of the hill, and over the other side again. What all this means, is that I am grumpy. But I’ve earnt it… I lived through Boney M and leg warmers and the Crossroads Motel.
Obviously in a book this size I wouldn’t be able to share with you ALL of my grumps. But I’ve decided to write down some of the secret thoughts that beset a woman of a certain age, some of the wicked things that occur to a woman who takes a lot of things to the dry cleaners, has to have her roots done every four weeks and finds it hard to wear high heels. And guess what: they still fancy people, still have silly little crushes on people at work, still – shock horror – have sex. You will discover that women of a certain age are just as provocative and turned on as women in their twenties. Probably more so. So get over it. Middle-aged women are sexy, funny and infinitely lovable. They are also taking over the world.’