Ladies of a certain age assassins club …. don’t do clubbing

There are certain advantages to picking a villa holiday that only a lady of a certain age can appreciate. Privacy for example, around the pool in particular.

On a recent member delegation to a Balearic island, two of the club’s committee members enjoyed unrivalled exposure to sunshine and freedom of movement only afforded by a private pool.

Wobbly bits were on display, in-elegant entry and departure from said pool was the order of the day, and nobody, but nobody, uttered the word cellulite. How refreshing. We were resolute in our own gorgeousness.

Once again we were 24; so were our waistlines. We were young free and single. We made cocktails (they were terrible, we haven’t a clue!) and we listened to ‘mum’ music full blast (well, I am a bit deaf in my right ear). We were down with the kids, and we fell asleep at inappropriate moments. We wore stylish sunnies and gossiped over trashy magazines.

We had alter egos from a spy novel, we had smooth legs and an eyebrow tint. I had shellac nails for goodness sake, me who shovels half a ton of horse manure every weekend to achieve these toned Bingo wings. My nails are not my best feature.

Between us I reckon we were just ten minutes short of going for the full on elbow length gloves and a cocktail ring in the evening. And we shamelessly posed for selfies.

So all in all, we had the full on clubbing 20-something experience but still managed to be tucked up in bed by 11.30. And that’s late for me.

The bubble had to burst. With the arrival of four, charming, beautiful and toned young ladies, friends of one of the member’s daughters. They appeared to survive on bottled water and one (very thin) slice of melon. They went for a run in the morning (all of it uphill) while I drank my forth mug of filter coffee. They had well behaved hair and suitcases full of shoes that looked like weapons. They had perfect teeth and pert bums and bras that would be useless on a desert island as a makeshift sail for the escape boat.

So as it was our last day, we smiled sagely, admired their beautiful, slim figures and hit the Pringles before swearing to join Slimming World.

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