Looking Your Age

I was vastly amused to hear PD James this morning on the Today programme, giving Mark Thompson a hard time about inflated executive salaries and the lack of older women on screen and on air: 08.20 at http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/listen_again/default.stm, (I know the Today programme is so last century and in fact most radios in our house are tuned to Radio 5 Live Sports Extra, at least during Test Matches, but I find Radio 5 too exhausting when I've just got up. Must be feeling my age.) To give him his due, young Mark (he is after all only 52 and four months) conceded that the BBC probably needs to look harder at the way it does - or does not - represent all sectors of society, but he immediately blew it by finding himself unable to find the right words to describe the social category into which PD James herself falls (she is 89 and four months). After a few excruciating seconds he managed to come out with it: "older women". Note the comparative - we can't just be "old"; "older" sounds just that bit softer and kinder, doesn't it?

As someone who is regularly subjected to the kind of amazement that people think is flattering when I tell them my age, I am depressed and angry that it should be generally accepted that age is a tragedy for women. If it's tragic for men, it certainly doesn't become so until they are well past 52. I wonder how often Mark Thompson meets people who say "goodness, Mark, I would never have imagined that you were 52! You look absolutely wonderful! I wouldn't have thought you were a day over 40!". This might be because he is, after all, a bit baldy, but he has more hair than my brother who is only 49, and on the whole, I wouldn't easily have been able to guess his age without looking it up on Wikipedia, because I have no idea what 52 looks like. He doesn't look 22 and he doesn't look 82 and that's about it. But when I was 52 people were certainly well into the "goodness I'd never have thought it!" phase and expecting me to look pleased. The sad thing is that I have to confess to a smidgen of smugness about looking less ancient that some people who are my age. But I put this down to the very fact of being born in 1942: if you grew up female in the 50s, you learned your lesson very well: old women are hideous and horrible, unless they're your nan.

I was once accosted by a woman (is it relevant that she was American?) after I'd given a presentation at a conference, who surged up to me saying "I just want to tell you I think you are SOOO brave!" Did she mean I was so brave for talking about media education to 200 primary literacy specialists? No, she reckoned I was so brave because I didn't dye my grey hair. I wonder whether she goes up to people with facial disfigurements and tell them they are so brave for not going round with their head in a paper bag. Do mixed race people get flattered for not looking too black? Even if I did feel bad about being 67 (and I really don't, well almost entirely not, ok I have noticed I might be dead in 20 years which is a bit of a downer, but apart from that, no, honestly) I would quickly get the message from all these well-meaning flatterers that being 67 is absolutely unthinkably awful and thank god I can get away with looking 52.

Although it is now illegal here to force people to retire, anyone born before 1947 will know that the minute you turn 60, the subtle pressures are on. A former colleague (of course, I can't say where) is going through just these pressures now. "When do you think you might retire?" "Maybe you'd like to consider moving to a less demanding role?" "Are you finding it all a bit of a strain?" It's the same kind of malevolent kindliness as the "you don't look your age" flattery, and it's hard to muster up a stinging rebuttal, let alone threaten court action. The best option is to negotiate a fat golden handshake and get the hell out, if that's the kind of people you're working with, though for some reason I stuck it out for another four years. By when, of course, I really did look my age.