Standing Room

30 May 2009

Last week I celebrated a big birthday.

‘I think you’ve never looked more handsome,’ I said admiringly.

‘I’m glad you feel like that Mum, but with all due respect I’m not really trying to appeal to middle-aged women,’ he replied gently.

I think it was at precisely this moment I realised that although I’d remembered to have the children and was just starting to get back the career, I’d completely forgotten to do any physical high — or even low — maintenance work on myself. I’d subliminally deferred ageing until another, more convenient time. Now my ‘tomorrow’ had numerically arrived it was too late to do much beyond grin and bear it, without even the false elixir of Botox.

One facet of David Cameron’s personality that I particularly admire and endorse is the unswerving trust he places in the importance of belonging to a family. Exactly what constitutes a ‘traditional family unit’ has inconceivably altered and mutated in my lifetime; yet like Cameron I remain steadfast in my belief that a tight family structure is the secret to a secure, well-balanced and happy life.

The older I’ve become the more I’ve appreciated my good fortune in belonging to a close, extended and multi-generational household. Families and friends understandably scatter as the years roll by, but if you’re lucky they never stray too far. All my personal chickens came home to roost on Saturday night as I celebrated my half-century. As I looked out across a sea of familiar, loved faces, I felt like I was enveloped by a huge patchwork quilt of life: my life. I was glad I’d forgotten to age artificially. I wanted the grin on my face to stretch from here to eternity. Freeze-frame.