Dear Miss Sixty,

Is sixty the new forty?

Hopefully,

Orange-is-the-new-black.

Dear Orange-is-the-new-black,

Firstly, I don’t really go with this whole things-being-new-other-things thing. Orange is not the new black. Sixty is not the new forty – sixty is just fine as it is.

I’ll concede that it is a bit of a milestone age. It does require something of a rethink on some levels. All those advertisements featuring smiley grey-haired people aimed at the ‘Over Sixties’…. They’re suddenly for us. Good grief. Life insurance, funeral planning, walk-in baths…whole unimagined vistas hove into view.  Facebook has been urging me for quite a while to discover the Anti-Wrinkle Treatment That Dermatologists Don’t Want You To Know, and illustrating it with curious pictures of an obviously young woman peeling off layers of cling film.

And I know, I just know, that women of the generations before ours will read this, and other comments like it, with gently raised eyebrows. Just as nowadays I read about the pain of journalists (usually) facing some huge, unexpected age -thirty, say – and lamenting their fading youth. Come on, girlies, is what I want to say – and would say, given half a chance. Get a grip. I recently read an article by someone called Nicola Mostyn in the Big Issue.  She listed her woes: hangovers more epic than the night before, hasn’t listened to any new music since 1998, only bends down to pick up things which are really important…. ‘These days,’ she says, ‘if I try to cajole myself into working hard, I immediately want a cup of hot chocolate and an early night. I can only presume that my biology is readying me for retirement, where the ability to be happily indolent counts as an evolutionary edge.’ Gosh, Nicola. That blythe comment about retirement does give a clue….Nicola is thirty nine.  Bless, I hear some of you saying…. but not me. Not Miss Sixty. My chilly and reproachful gaze would freeze Nicola’s blood should she ever be so foolish as to venture into my field of vision.

So, Orange-is-the-new-black, I think we’ve sorted that out. Please find another, better name, and a much better question, before you write again.

Dear Miss Sixty,

I’m a hard-working baroness who recently resigned from a job as Minister for Equalities because of my government’s policy on Gaza. Now I read in the press that I had delusional beliefs in my own abilities, and resigned because I hadn’t been promoted in Cameron’s reshuffle. This is seemingly being put about by my erstwhile colleagues. Is this fair? Baroness W

Dear Baroness W,

No, probably not. It’s not always easy to feel very much sympathy for Tories, even (and perhaps especially) Northern and non-white Tories, who, one feels, should somehow just know better, when their erstwhile colleagues savage them.  I did read, however, that it wasn’t your gender or race that most alienated David Cameron, but your Yorkshireness.  This is clearly a good thing, therefore, and something you should work on.

Dear Miss Sixty,

Is there a Mr. Sixty? SY

Dear SY,

Of course not.

[Editor’s note: Miss Sixty is, of course, both happy and competent to also deal with queries from male readers, and welcomes their letters.]

Dear Miss Sixty,

Helen Mirren, twerking? Has the world gone mad?  Appalled, Nottingham.

Dear Appalled, Nottingham,

Well, I’m with you up to a point. And if it was, say, Anne Widdecombe, or Julie Goodyear, or even Ann Diamond, then I would be very concerned indeed. But we’re talking here about Helen Mirren. Leave aside the fabulous over-sixty-bikini-shot. She seems to win awards every year, and consistently turns up on the red carpet looking marvellous and waving statuettes around. I do like her. So, in my opinion, if she deems a little twerking to be appropriate, then who are we – who are any of us – to judge her?

Miss Sixty replies in brief:

Janie G – There’s always a balance to be struck between positive thinking and, bluntly, stupidity. I’ll say no more than that.

Susan – I’m fairly sure from your letter that Radio 2 is at the heart of this.  Why not try tuning to Radio Hereford instead? Good luck.

S D-M – That’s very kind of you. We do our modest best.

 

 

 

Dear Miss Sixty,

My partner wants us to go on holiday to Guernsey  this year, as we always do. I, however, would like to go somewhere different – I just don’t know where.  Where would you go? HY

Dear HY,

Good for you. Travel is nearly always good. But choosing a destination can be tricky. While there’s a lot to think about, the main consideration, in my view, should always be the temperature. I can see the temptation of sitting in the shade beside a deep blue swimming pool with a gently fizzing glass of lemonade beside you, and a copy of ‘Middlemarch’ open on your lap, but the point is that you do have to leave the swimming pool sometime. And when you do, things can go downhill very quickly. Hair plastered to head, perspiration running down nose, causing sunglasses to slide off, sarong clinging to legs, suntan lotion squidging between toes, freckles threatening to join up….It’s all best avoided.

This therefore rules out most of Europe, Africa and Asia. The United States is also extremely hot. It may be winter in Australia, but it’s currently recording the same temperature as Rome. We are left, I think, with a choice between Scandinavia and Scotland. And there are midges in Scotland.

Stockholm, HY.

 

Dear Miss Sixty,

I see that Madonna has made her contribution to peace in the Middle East by being photographed with two male dancers, one painted with a Jewish symbol, the other with a Muslim symbol. Do you think that we should all be making such gestures towards reconciliation? CC

Dear CC,

No.

 

Dear Miss Sixty,

Do you think that sixty is an age when we should start to feel, well, a bit deflated? Promise unfulfilled, hopes fading, all of that? I sometimes water my begonias and feel quite discouraged. AC.

Dear AC,

I think I understand. Begonias can be a bit discouraging.  But I’m inclined to think that, firstly, we should really be quite pleased, and grateful, to have reached the age of sixty at all. None of the Brontes did, or Jane Austen. Or Shakespeare. Now, I know that’s a bit of a two-edged consolation. They, after all, had already created magnificent masterpieces, and died, whilst still younger than us.

But the answer to your question, I suspect, is that it all depends. If you want to perform on the parallel bars at the Commonwealth Games, or be in the Cuba women’s volleyball team, or be feted as an infant terrible, then basically your moment has passed. There’s no wrapping that up. And you’re way too old to die young.

On the other hand, there are all sorts of ambitions that can mature slowly, with us.  Margaret Simey didn’t enter public life until her late fifties. Penelope Fitzgerald wrote her first novel at sixty, and Mary Wesley at seventy. Doris Lessing received the Nobel Prize for literature at the age of eighty eight. Diane Athill won the Costa Award for her memoir ‘Somewhere Towards the End’ at the age of 91. It just goes to show.

(I’d refer to my own recent, very small foray into the publishing world, but modesty, of course, forbids.)

The point is that, in general, we in the West are not only living longer, but ageing better than ever before. We live in a stable, affluent society which is not at war. We live in an era of inoculation and antiseptic.  We may not always manage to feel it, but we are extraordinarily lucky.

So, AC, whilst I do sympathise with your sense of deflation, it could be that you need to conduct a glass-half-empty, glass-half-full sort of audit, and then perhaps sit down and decide what you’re going to do with the life and potential you have left….Begonias, I venture, may not be quite enough….

Dear Miss Sixty,

Are people having more sex these days? –Anxious.

Dear Anxious,

No.

Dear Miss Sixty,

There were some wonderful products in the 60’s. I recall Birds Eye Frozen Cod Balls in Batter, Goblin hamburgers in gravy, and Fray Bentos Steak and Kidney Pies, topped off with a lovely, damp flaky pastry. There were Vesta instant curries, and a particularly sweet Ski strawberry yogurt which has since vanished.  Where are they now? Greta H 

Dear Greta H,

I know. I miss them too. Well, I miss Goblin hamburgers in gravy. They were a perfect 60’s meal, served with Smash instant potato and perhaps a tin of garden peas in sweetened salted water. With pink Angel Delight to follow.

 

Miss Sixty replies in brief:

Agnes D – No, this is not a good idea.

JK – I have covered this topic previously. Please refer back.

LL –  I will deal with this in depth in a future post.