It is 9.05 am on Friday 17 August. I am fifty years, one month and two weeks old and I am a writer. Primarily. But I will go into that another time. Went out for a meal with the girls last night. One is only 17, one gets married in a fortnight, one is about to drop a baby, and the other two - myself included - are middle-aged (ish) and married and very happy with our lives. Over the first course - in my case Alfredo Mushrooms in a cheese sauce accompanied by garlic bread - the topic of conversation ranged from work (AAAGGHHH!!!), people at work (even bigger AAAGGHHH!!) and - um - work (groan). By the time the main course arrived (spaghetti in spicy tomato sauce for me - one of my favoutites), the conversation had moved up a gear or two. Work was forgotten. We discussed staff Christmas parties (Why? It is only half way through August) then Youngest Colleague's up-coming 18th, Engaged Colleague's up-coming wedding and Pregnant Colleague's up-coming first-born. I felt sorry for the guy at the next table when the pros and cons of breast-feeding were bandied about (loudly) for a good twenty minutes, followed by Birth itself. Other Married Colleague began to talk about when her son was born, followed by the inevitability of sleepless nights. Pregnant Colleague began to blanche and it wasn't helped when Other Married Colleague said "It'll be all right! Don't worry!" I felt left out of the conversation so began to gush about Granddaughter whose second birthday it just happened to be and how she'd picked up a Noddy game at Modelzone and plonked it in her buggy, thereby securing her first Christmas present of 2007. "She's definitely Granny's girl," I concluded proudly to break the stunned silence.
"Should I have a dessert I wonder?" breezed Engaged Colleague as the Main course drew to a close and I reached for my little fan to ward off another Hot Flush.
In the end Pregnant Colleague and myself settled for coffees, with Engaged Colleague claiming the little complimentary biscuits that came with them (to replace the dessert she had decided not to have, one presumes) and - at around 8.45 pm the meal came to an end. Pregnant Colleague gave Other Married Colleague and me a lift home in her new car - which saved us both worrying about trams and Being Out In Town At Night (which is sort of sad, but only to be expected these days, I guess).
I got in just before 9pm. Hubby had left for work and left me a note to say he'd missed me during the evening, so I fussed over Cat, slipped into dressing gown, curled up on the sofa and watched Spiderman 2 on the 5US channel before going to bed around 11.30. When I got up this morning, a title was playing in my head FIFTY & NOT OUT. A new book about cricket? Something about Percentages? No. The everyday meanderings of a 50 year old going through the menopause. Surely I am not the only woman who suffers from Hot Flushes?
I am NOT the only woman who suffers from Hot Flushes. And don't call me Shirley.........
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