I have just been reading about Prue Leith getting engaged at the ripe old age of 76. Well I must say that I’m very happy for her – but of course also for the rest of us who are scrabbling around in the shallow end of a swimming pool full up with about 100 women jumping and splashing about for the attention of precisely two men (maybe I’m being unfair, perhaps there are a few more men, but over 50% have serious germs and shouldn’t be in the pool at all and others are potential mad max murderers).
What a lovely story to read that she and her beau have found “true love” again and feels like teenagers – “love feels the same at 70 as at 17. Same anxiety, same longing, same excitement”, she says. Very reassuring I thought to be reminded that a new lease of life can appear at any age and that I should enjoy being single for now so that I can look forward to doing lots of new things and sharing them with someone else in 20 years time.
“And why shouldn’t we oldies be happy, fall in love, feel that rush of unadulterated happiness again” she says and I agree. It’s great. It gives us all hope for a shared future down the line. But, then, a horrifying thought struck me – she can cook and I can’t. That makes her a far bigger catch than me.
I have a friend who has just started a Prue Leith cooking course today…I think I might just have to join her. “Preparation” for the future as they say.
Although F*ck it. I prefer restaurants anyway.