I'm pretty sure I already have the body of a 50-year-old woman, I can't wait until all my friends catch up.

It just looks like such a lovely age to be. It seems to me that a 50-something has all the freedom of a 20-something but with more money and more sense.

Personally the hubby and I are planning to be flash-packers come our fifth decade. Think backpacker but with more class.

Your average flash-packer has lost interest in partying on every continent. They're there for the architecture and the food. Of course you've already succumbed to the middle aged spread by then (possibly back in your 30s), so you can really focus on sampling local cuisines without worrying about your figure.

Mind you, I'm not sure how we'll fund our global adventures. I'll worry about financial logistics later. Like in my 40s.

Funnily enough very few of the baby boomers I've talked to agree that middle age is where it's at. They seem to think I'm smack bang in the prime of my life now. Particularly the single 50-something gals. To hear them tell it, the single life is a vicious game once you're looking down the barrel of retirement. Apparently the competition is fierce. If there's a decent available

bloke, your single 50ish sisters are likely to rip you limb from limb in an attempt to get to him first. They agreed it gets easier to look in the mirror when you reach 50 though. If only because you can't see your wrinkles due to failing eyesight.

Not that I'm wishing away the joys of my 30s. Having a young family ensures plenty of warm fuzzy moments to be cherished. Only now will my return home (after even the briefest of absences) be greeted by squeals of excitement and a scramble to get the first hug.

Such unbridled adoration can't last. The firstborn has already moved on to more subdued displays of affection. I realise that all too soon this heart-warming stuff will just be a rosy memory.

I'm still looking forward to the flash-packing though.