Grumpy Old Woman?

During yet another bout of boredom I was channel surfing and settled upon "Grumpy Old Women" I am by no means old but I am positive I have skipped a generation and become my Nan. Recently I have found myself berating music ("this isn't music", "what happened to writing a tune", "I remember the original") and, even more terrifyingly, police officers are definitely getting younger.....a sure sign of reaching OAP-dom :( BUT nothing could have prepared me for siding with Ann Widdecombe on the subject of motherhood. Ann Widdecombe!!!

Being of a slightly dappy nature, I am looking forward to an age where I can justifiably be eccentric. I plan on having the works: endless chiffon; bright orange hair; 15 cats and a dusty library of Barbara Cartland novels. Hooray for being a crazy old cat lady! I figure, if I play my cards right I can go the whole Miss Haversham hog and sit in a rotting wedding dress, barking instructions to minions in my care home. Good times :D

At work a few days ago, a discussion arose around the subject of dancing like a Mum. This is a fascinating phenomenon. Do I not dance like a Mum, purely because I'm not a Mum? I have friends who have yet to bear fruit and still do the elbows-out-two-step. How is this possible? On the flip side, I know Mums who have a fantastic presence on the dancefloor. The concept confuses me greatly (but then most things do!)

One other subject that vexes me greatly is, at what point does one become "Madam"? I do object to 18 year olds referring to me as Madam. This seemed to happen almost overnight. Is there a male equivalent or as a bloke are you always Sir?

I suppose I should take advantage of being young-ish, free and single (pffft) while I have the chance. I can be a Grumpy Old Woman once I hit the big 6-0 :)