I observe some local attractions

You are very lucky! You know it and I know it. Why? Because I have decided to share with you (via the power of the photograph) some of the amazing attractions available to me, my husband, the inhabitants of the village in rural Quebec we call our "occasional home", and any visitors to the area.   (I am hoping to photograph the ostrich hotdog at some point over the next couple of days. And the face in the bush.)

If your French is not 'up to snuff', I am happy to reveal that this sign translates as "The Squash Interpretation Centre".

In other news, today I am 41.   Things do not appear to have changed much since 2008; I still find myself puzzled that my belly button is where it is and not where I thought it was. So far ageing is going OK, i.e. I do not care about it as am already saggy, and I've only got one grey hair (in my right eyebrow).

There are few wrinkles, but I must confess to being very troubled about one thing, and that is the apparent emergence of a crêpey bosom, esp. the skin above my enbonpoint and in the bit in the 'crevasse of pleasure', as Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen once called it (in my dreams).

It is worse in the morning when I have been sleeping on my side; I think the sheer weight of bosom sort of pulls it about a bit. Anyway, apparently Botox is good for it so although I won't be stuffing Botox in my forehead, I may be stuffing it down my cleavage - unless you, my adoring readers and/or fans, have any homegrown tips. I am already:

- putting sun block on my exposed chest (and face) when strolling around outside in the sun;
- putting moisturiser on my neck and chest now instead of just my gurning monkey face;
- wearing appropriately supportive 'underwear', costing about twelve million pounds per rigging.

Come on then! What have you got?

So. Middle age. Here it is, properly, looking at me in the face and lightly suggesting I invest in an anti-ageing eyecream. I suppose the days of chewing gum in the ladygarden are well and truly over. Instead I must turn my fading blue eyes to the future: a future full of mystifyingly thick black hair (on my face, despite over one thousand pounds spent on laser hair removal), wrinkled bosoms and teeth falling out on the floor unexpectedly.

On the other hand, I wouldn't be 20 again for all the bloody tea in China. What I have lost in elasticity and memory function I have gained in the sure knowledge that:

1. No amount of watching the phone, self-criticism, plucking hair, waxing, hairdos, new dresses, fancy sex-moves, not eating too much in front of someone else, analysis of every word said, in-depth discussion with friends for over 12 hours with 12 bottles of wine, pretending you like music you don't, pretending you like films you don't, new pants, etc makes much difference. If it's going to work it's going to work.  What you said last Wednesday isn't why he hasn't called. He hasn't called because he doesn't want to. One day someone will want to _____________(fill in the blank as appropriate) even if you are having a bad day, smell slightly of hamsters and are sitting in your pants watching "Location, Location, Location" eating fishfingers and peas.
   
2. I am not sure that this stuff about not sleeping with each other on the first date is true.  It has not, shall we say, made much difference to me and about 65% of the loved up peeps I know. Horses for courses mind you, but you get my point.
   
3. 99% of the time 99% of people are thinking about themselves, not you, so don't worry about it so much (whatever "it" is), as it is unlikely that anyone else either noticed or cares.  This is not to say the world is uncaring and awful. Anything but.
   
4. If in doubt, just ask yourself if it (whatever "it" is) makes you happy.
   
5. And finally, and most importantly: if you can stay non-working in your heart, do it.  Your life will be immeasurably better.

Pip pip!

NWM