I've just celebrated a birthday. Not a significant birthday, but a birthday none the less and one I was quite happy to keep to myself until my daughter posted an effusive greeting on Facebook. There are days when I don't feel any different to twenty years ago - then I look in the mirror. When my mum was the age I am now she had lived through an economic depression, mass unemployment and two world wars. She was unhappily married with a 16 year old daughter she didn't understand. Nothing had gone quite according to plan, and I wasn't the daughter she would have been, given half the chance. She sewed curtains in our pokey back room, the Singer machine positioned beneath the window to make best use of the natural daylight. She now wore her glasses all the time, no longer just for sewing and reading. She had a wash and set at the hairdressers every fortnight and she wore false teeth. She loved day trips to the seaside, especially B...