26October2025 Diary
My motherinlaw, Ethel Whitaker, became a grandmother at the age of fortyfour, and in that very instant she seemed to slip into the role society has long assigned to her. She never shuffled about in a brightly embroidered shawl with a cane; even in her later years she kept a neat, respectable appearance. I still recall the afternoon we stitched a vivid red dress for a doll together. I was thrilled and asked her if she would ever want such a dress herself. She chuckled, Oh, love, Im a granny already! That phrase Im a granny summed up her whole outlook. When the first grandchild arrived, she fell straight into the box drawn by tradition and by her own expectations, and she lived within those borders for the rest of her days, much like the other women around her.
Nowadays I often hear the fortyplus crowd lament how much life has thrown at them and how hard it is to keep up in an age of constant change. Yet it is precisely this generation that has shattered the old frames, the rigid ideas about age. Try for a moment to call a woman just over forty a grandma. Shes still a lady, a strikingly beautiful one at that. She may not be in the bloom of her youth, but shes still a woman. Her mindset is geared toward feeling young rather than feeling old.
In my regular haunt, a tiny café on a side street in Manchester, the barista, Lucy, already knows my order a large flatwhite with a splash of oat milk. We swap a few banterfilled lines each morning. Shes petite, graceful, the sort of girl who looks like she just finished university. The other day I walked in and saw a massive bloke, nearly two metres tall, broadshouldered, standing beside her. I wondered whether he was her boyfriend after all, shes practically a Tom Thumb compared to him. He leaned over the counter, planted a kiss on her cheek, and then, in a low voice, asked, Mum, could you lend me a few hundred pounds? If someone had told me that was his son, I would have been less surprised.
What I admire most about modern women is the freedom to decide how they wish to present themselves, which style and which age feels most comfortable. Some favour braids and bikiniarea tattoos; others prefer Louboutins and deepV gowns. Some choose trainers and ripped jeans, others opt for lemonyellow blouses, narrow skirts and jaunty hats for every season. Red dresses, even mini ones with daring back zippers, are now part of the wardrobe without a single raised eyebrow. And if anyone does stare, she simply shrugs it off.
Theres an old saying: If youth only knew, if old age could That phrase has all but vanished. Our middleaged cohort has bleached it away like a stubborn stain. We know what we want, and we still have the energy to pursue it. This is a generation that drifts between the dread of the elderly and the wary gaze of the young, sailing its own course and relishing the thrill of each new adventure.
The biggest revelation Ive had recently, which Im eager to record here, is that age does not close doors; it widens them. We no longer have to search for ourselves because we have already found who we are. Now we polish our crafts or try fresh techniques that bring joy and satisfaction. We no longer feel obliged to mingle with every passerby; instead we focus on keeping close those whose spirits beat in time with ours. We can afford the luxury of pleasant company rather than the necessity of mere social interaction. In love and intimacy we now value quality over quantity, aware that the latter can never replace the former, and we grant our younger selves a hundred points of goodwill.
Weve learned not to rush children to grow up because weve watched the pace of life and know it well enough. We cherish their childhood, filling it with the things we missed when we were young. Weve understood that no amount of moneypounds or pencecan purchase happiness, health, or loyalty. We also recognise that the road we travel toward a goal often matters more than the goal itself. If you cannot enjoy the journey, the destination is unlikely to delight you either. Experience has taught us how quickly time flies; the canvas of life is already sketched, and now is the moment to add the fine details and elegant strokes that turn a painter into a master and a painting into a masterpiece.
When all of this settles in, you realise that the present moment offers boundless possibilities. You can take dancing lessons, learn to sing, pick up a harp, study a new language, try scuba diving, learn horseback riding, go skiing or rollerblading. You might start glassblowing, learn to drive, paint Christmas baubles, paddle a kayak, assemble mosaics, keep bees, colour a playground, throw pottery, stitch with beads or embroidery, bake delightful cakes, ferment cabbage, or make homemade noodles. You could travel and see with your own eyes the places youve only heard about. You might adopt a dog, take in a third cat, shoot your own short film, appear on stage, move out to the countryside, or finally pursue that lifelong passion youve been putting off. You could lose yourself in a new novel, welcome another child into the family, or simply wander the park trails alone, letting the mist veil the world while sipping a hot chocolate or a cup of tea with a hint of lemon balm, savoring each sip as a piece of autumn, of life itself.
The lesson I take away, and the one I shall try to live by, is that while time is finite, the opportunities that come with each passing year are limitless. Embrace them, cherish them, and never let the number on a birth certificate dictate the size of your dreams.
