Be happy not to be young

So the Jubilee Report reveals that older women are happier than ever before. They're having better sex, enjoying more independence and experiencing richer relationships with friends and family.

This surprises me not a whit. Practically all the people I know, both men and women, have got happier as they have got older. Women have started conforming to this trend not simply because of the discovery of HRT - which Angela Rippon hails as revolutionising her life - but because feminism has given them more choices, and, not insignificantly, more money.

Youth is hugely overrated. We are perpetually fed a line that being young is a passport to exuberance, joy and excitement. But my memory of it is that the very perception that your life was meant to be one big party made it a long litany of disappointment. Nothing could live up to the imaginary youth that the advertisers and culture in general were foisting upon you - when you were at your most impressionable.

Young people have relatively little money, work the hardest of anyone, are unsure about their identity or future and are generally neurotic about sex and their appearance. More than any other generation, they are subject to the mind-bending influence of modern communication - the stealing of their mental space by corporations, fashion labels and lifestyle imagineers.

It is young, not middle-aged men, who have been killing themselves in greater numbers than ever before. Women don't kill themselves so much, but are more inclined to take prescription drugs for depression.

By the time you hit your forties and fifties, for most people, the outstanding issues of your life have been resolved one way or another. You've had a chance to come to terms with your life - whether you have achieved what you wanted or not. Sex is less of an issue - you have been unchained from the idiot. Also, most people have either careers, or children or both - each, in its way, a great source of satisfaction.

It is unquestionably true that youth is wasted on the young. But, I am happy to report, middle age is definitely not wasted by most people. It is cherished. And why not? It is, after all, the golden age.

The shame of my failure at looking immaculate

According to one stylist: "It takes real confidence to walk out of the door not looking immaculate." The comment refers to Gwyneth Paltrow's trendsetting ploy in walking around the London streets during daytime dressed in what looks like recent purchases from Primark and TK Maxx.

How true that is. I often find myself hesitating inside the threshold of my house before venturing outside. "Do I have the confidence today," I ask myself, "to not look immaculate?" I am only too well aware of the ostracism that looms if the neighbours notice the slight belling around the posterior that my brown cardie has developed since I accidentally put it in the Dyson on a hot wash. And what if - horror of horrors - they notice that it is a remnant from last year's season?

Only last week I ventured out to the newsagents in my Dolcis sandals, and Mrs Postelthwaite from No 71 noticed the scratch my cat playfully made behind the faux brass buckle. Although, naturally, I got rid of the cat immediately, no one would look at me for three days. My invitation to that week's car boot sale at the church hall was mysteriously withdrawn.

Nowadays, sadly, my confidence often fails me, and I feebly rush back upstairs to change into my Ozwald Boateng suit and Patrick Cox shoes.

Brilliant? Don't make me laugh

I'd like to join in the chorus of applause that has greeted the new observational comedy, The Book Club. It reminds me very much of similarly lauded new-generation shows such as Marion and Geoff and The Office. These comedies are all clever, thoughtful, well acted and sophisticated.

But am I the only person who thinks that, in truth, they aren't remotely funny?

I can sit through any of the above, squirming with embarrassment at the accuracy of the characterisations and dialogue and feeling sadness for the excruciating situations depicted. But for the life of me, I cannot raise a smile.

I date this trend in clever, unfunny comedy back to Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, who could leave you breathless with admiration for their subtlety, but with your rib utterly untickled.

I prefer comedies that actually make you laugh. Seinfeld, for instance, was both brilliantly witty and extraordinarily imaginative at the same time. By all means continue with The Book Club etc. But they should be under the auspices of drama or arts programming rather than light entertainment.

Too much thinking will keep us all fat

The consumption of snacks and soft drinks has increased by more than 50 per cent compared with 20 years ago, university researchers have this week suggested, while the amount of exercise taken has fallen. Result - increasing levels of obesity.

I myself could stand to lose a pound or two, and have made something in the region of 20 to 30 attempts over the past five years to do so. I have tried eating less calories, exercising more often, consuming less fat and combining my foods in order to increase my metabolic rate.

Absolutely no luck. My reward for all that blood, sweat and tears is that I'm eight pounds heavier than I was when I started trying.

However, since giving up making any effort whatsoever, my weight has stabilised. Whatever I eat or don't eat now, my weight stays the same. This accords with my essential philosophy of life - the more you try, the more you fail. Certainly, our increase in intake of food has contributed to obesity. But, on a deeper level, hasn't caring about whether we're fat or not created that increase? The more we hear of studies telling us we're overweight, the more we worry about it, and the more we get into a neurotic cycle of dieting and stuffing ourselves.

Eating properly is like tightrope walking or riding a bike. It's easy - unless you start thinking about it.