When I think back to the time of my childhood in the 1960s, a woman of 50 was considered to be old. She would, most likely, have her 50 years etched on her face and would be presumed to be completely past it. My own grandmother, in her early fifties when I was born, despite having beautiful, peachy skin and …
Why a meaningless number won’t dictate my life
Other people have always been much more interested in my age than I am – I was even labelled a ‘vintage vixen’ at 40 – so, as I turn 70, I expect it will be brought up constantly in the press. Despite thinking of age as a phase, rather than a number, I’m reflecting on what this birthday means to …

