My children tell
me I’m old, but then our children always think we’re old, don’t they? Mine thought I was old when I was 29!
It was comments
from two friends at different times, however, that made me realise I’d crossed
the line into middle age. One came from
an actor friend who had been cast in the play, Rebecca, and happened to tell me that they were having problems
casting some of the parts. I joked that
I might just try out for one of them.
Now I don’t remember much about Rebecca,
but I don’t think there many roles in it.
There’s Rebecca and her husband, of course, the horrid Mrs Danvers and few
smaller parts, I think. Now I don’t know
what I expected, I’m sure I didn’t think myself Rebecca (herself) material, but
I was somewhat taken aback when my friend suggested I’d make a good Mrs
Danvers! My mouth probably dropped open;
I was certainly speechless for a few seconds before coming to my senses and
laughing it off. I can’t help thinking how
awful it must be for those beautiful actresses who go from Rebecca to Mrs
Danvers in just a few, short, years – no wonder they try to hold back the time with
cosmetic surgery; I’m beginning to think about it myself!
The next time
was a year or so later. I was recounting
to a young (30 or so) (female) colleague how a friend and I had met an Olympic
athlete on the train the night before, describing this drop-dead-gorgeous hunk
of a man, with bulging muscles and eyes like pools .... well, you get the
picture. Anyway, she just laughed and
said he was probably used to having ‘middle-aged women swooning over him’! Well, if the Mrs Danvers comment hadn’t quite
spelled it out before, this time it hit – yes, I was officially middle aged. Now
where’s my Horlicks?
