As I took off my jacket and handed it to the small, delicate, very blonde and very young assistant, she said, "That's it sweetie..." as she helped me on with my black voluminous gown in preparation for a cut and blow-dry! And with her delicate, butterfly touch on my elbow, she guided me to the chair. I suppose that to her, I was ancient and needed treating delicately. She handed me a couple of 'OK' and 'Hello' magazines, and as soon as she'd gone off to aide another ancient over-40 woman, I got up and exchanged them for 'Country Living' and 'Prima'... proof that I was indeed ancient!Then conversely, yesterday while walking around the Cotswold Wildlife Park with my two young grandsons, and asking for two ice-cream cones, I was addressed as 'Mum' by the young man serving. I am now suffering from a sort of identity crisis... what am I? Ancient grandmother or mother of two young boys? What's age got to do with anything? And, why are some people ill at ease with the different ages? Or, do they just not know that everyone, regardless of age, etc., etc., should be treated with equal respect? I don't much like being called 'Sweetie, darlin', love, m'duck or anything else by people I don't know. However, some might say that I have indeed reached the 'Grumpy Old Woman' stage! All this is proof I need a life!
