Women of a certain age

Posted on April 18, 2012 by Helena

There is a famous saying that women of a certain age discover either God or gardening. I would like to add a third discovery, every bit as all-encompassing and obsessive: Tennis.
I have loved tennis since I was a child. I was never much good at it, the only training I got was hitting a ball against a wall in a cow-shed, but I watched Wimbledon every year and was mad about Borg, followed by Agassi and Edberg.
Then when we moved here I rediscovered the game. But not in a sort of casual ‘oh I might play when I get the chance’ kind of a way, but an ‘ a day without tennis is like a day without bread’ kind of way, whereby I have panic attacks if I don’t have tennis planned on any given day. Four times a week is a bare minimum.
I am not alone. Which is lucky or I would have to find a cowshed to hit a ball in, and there are not many of those around here.
Happily for me there are plenty of other women who have been hit by the tennis bug and who are willing to play as often as possible. We discuss racquets, top-spin, the mental game and other essential topics.
I have been trying to work out what it is about tennis that makes it so compulsive. It is tough to define, but I think in part it is the mental aspect of the game. It is incredible how much difference it makes to the result if you are focused. As Boris Becker said: “Tennis is a psychological sport. You have to keep a clear head. That’s why I stopped playing.”

Maybe that’s why women of a certain age, with so much going on in their heads, take it up. To experience the sensation of thinking of nothing else but hitting a perfect cross-court backhand.

Blast from the past

Posted on March 9, 2012 by Helena

My friend Floss just left today, she has been staying with us for the past week. When I first met her some 30 years ago at a pizzeria in the King’s Road there were two things that differentiated her from everyone else. One, she had a red mohican, and two, she was an utterly obsessive Chelsea fan. One of those things remains the same.
We were best friends all those years ago. We did everything together. We lived close to each other, she was still living with her parents in Sloane Square, and I was renting a room nearby from a long-suffering girl called Angela whose life was about as far removed from ours as was possible. Floss and I spent all our time together, at my place or hers, and going out.
We used to go to night clubs a lot; the Camden Palace, the Mud Club, Crazy Larry’s. We were backing singers once for Steve Strange and my other claim to fame is that I was once told by George Michael that Andrew Ridgeley fancied me. But back then, before they were famous, they were known as ‘the wallies from wham’ and I wasn’t interested. Of course I was also in love with ‘Heathcliff’ as some of you might remember him, who by a strange coincidence was here last week, missing Floss by just a few days.
Floss and I lost touch when I went to university and she went around the world. A couple of years ago my friend Marco told me he had seen her.
“She’s just the same,” he said.
“What? She’s still got a red mohican?” I asked. (Floss is on the left below)
He put us in touch and she came to my book launch in London. We then swapped lots of emails, mainly about Chelsea, until she asked if she could come and stay. I didn’t know what to expect really. Thirty years is a long time. I really thought it would be a bit like having a stranger in the house. But it wasn’t. The amazing thing is, that she really is just the same (apart from the hair-do) and I felt like we’d never been apart.
I don’t know if it’s a significant thing or not, hooking up with people from when you were young, maybe it’s totally irrelevant. I suppose if nothing else it’s good to know that people who knew you so long ago still want to hang out with you. And that some things never change.

Letter to my father

Posted on November 11, 2011 by Helena

I have just got back from Italy where I was visiting my father, who is ill in hospital. He will be 87 in December, but it was still a shock to see him so weak and, well OLD, for the first time ever.
I wrote him a letter on the way back to the airport because there was so much I wanted to say. I call him biologico, because by the time I really got to know him, it was too late for daddy.

Here it is in parts…

Caro Biologico

I’m not sure I will ever send you this letter, but I want to write it anyway, because there are so many things I want to say to you and to remember about this visit, which I don’t know how else to express.

We said goodbye three hours ago. I left you, in your wheelchair, with my mother standing beside you, you were pulling a face and she was waving, smiling, trying not to cry. You looked like any other old couple in the hospital; grey and wrinkly and together. No one would have guessed you haven’t been together since I was two. As a child all I ever wanted was to have normal parents who were together, to have you both in the same room, to be able to say “my parents” and not follow it with “split up when I was two”. Of course there is nothing “normal” about either of you, thank god, but as a child for some reason normality was all I craved. As an adult I’m grateful to you both that I never had it.

I don’t know what I expected, in what state I thought I would find you, but I certainly didn’t think you would be so THIN. You’ve never been thin. I remember those zany diets you used to do, the ‘eat only grapes for a week’ diet and then how you would give something up, like chocolate, and say “for me chocolate does not exist.”

There were times when you got quite fat, but you always carried it off, with that elegant stance and the ubiquitous Fedora hat. Now that hat sits on your bookshelf at home.

And talking of elegance, you still look like an aristocrat, even in a wheelchair. You hold your head high as you always did, and your eyes are still sparkling, intelligent. You don’t belong there. I know it’s not their fault, the staff probably try their best, but the smell of shit and death and OLD PEOPLE is stultifying. I fear if you stay, you will just sink further into that world, to a point of no return.

I hate seeing you like this. It makes me want to give up my job and move to Novafeltria to take care of you, I just believe that somehow if I could get you back to your work, you would be cured, because I’m sure not being able to write is literally killing you. You always told me never to go a day without writing; nulla dies sine linea, you once wrote on a scrap of paper, I have it framed on my wall at home.

You did talk about finishing your novel. I so hope you do. But maybe that’s unrealistic, because if we’re honest, only really about ten per cent of you is present. It’s so depressing seeing flashes of your old self; your humour, your brilliance, your intellect, and realizing that it is buried deep down now and may never surface again. I know your mind still works, but you can’t articulate as you used to. When I told you that I had done some writing at your desk, you said the longest sentence you had said to me during the entire three days; “Mi fa piacere.” You probably wouldn’t say that if you’d known what I was writing, another “shitting” novel as you would call it.

And when I told you that one of my books is going to be published in Germany, your face lit up. You know the importance of the German publishing market, something the cabbages around you (bless them) wouldn’t have known when they were compos mentis.

You reaction to Olivia was lovely. The way you stroked her face last night when we were leaving made me cry, and I cry every time I think about it. I suppose because you were saying goodbye. Her reaction has been surprising, she doesn’t really know you that well, and yet has wept and keeps saying she doesn’t want to leave you.

I have used many words to describe you, in books, in articles, to other people. Words like brilliant, bullying, egotistic, charming, larger-than-life, amusing. One word I would never have used is the word that best sums you up now; sweet. I have never seen you so affectionate and kind. Your smile is really sweet now, I don’t know what’s happened, I like it, but I would rather have the old Biologico who tells Olivia she speaks French “comme une vache Espagnol” and harasses me for not writing “proper” books.

But your new sweetness seems to have won you many admirers there, I have never seen a man made such a fuss of, you really are among friends. Carmela is a joy, as is Agostina, and I can’t believe the old woman with a hole in her leg up the hall was the chicken keeper at Carpegna, your old summer house.

Do you remember when we first went there? The chicken farmer said she remembers me being very brave on a vast horse. I wasn’t brave, I was terrified. Not only of the horse, but of you and this whole new family I knew nothing about. Now when I come back, especially on this trip, names and places like Perticara and Malatesta feel like they’re part of me, I get a sense of belonging from this part of Italy, which I suppose it what you were always trying to instill in me with all your talk of “radice.”

This summer when we were all with my mother, you told the children, when they asked why you didn’t have any eyebrows, that you cut them off and sent them to your enemies, who eat them and then die. Yesterday I cut your eyebrows, I can’t bear all that sprouting hair. There is plenty to kill all your enemies, though I think you have probably outlived them all, and now you’re so sweet, you probably won’t make any more.

When I had finished, I handed you a mirror. You looked in it and said “grazie” very firmly. It’s good to see there’s still a certain amount of vanity going on, it makes me hope that you’re not about to give up.

I am already beginning to regret that we didn’t spend more time together. I had a plan to come and see you at Christmas, to interview you and to have Bea film our discussions. There are so many things I want to talk to you about. I think you would make a great interviewee.

See you at Christmas I hope, biologico.

Con molto affetto

La tua figlia

Daddy and Dante

Posted on August 1, 2011 by Helena

The most wonderful memory of my trip to Italy this summer is from a party that my mother had. She billed it “an evening of poetry and magic” and it was held at a friend’s house next to a river in Umbria. The magic was the atmosphere, as well as a charming man making animals out of balloons, and the poetry was provided by my father.

He sat on a rock (and this is a man who is 86 years old) and recited Dante from memory. Not just the odd line from Dante, but great chunks on the Inferno. Including of course my favourite Paolo and Francesca. He was accompanied by musicians, whom he conducted, rather like he used to ‘air-conduct’ the orchestra when we went to La Scala. They strummed their guitars and played their pipes to increase the drama, or the romance, or the suspense of what he was reciting.Here he is entertaining the children before his recital.

Then last week my mother rang to tell me my father was in hospital. He has a kidney infection. At the age of 86 that is not a good thing. I called and spoke to a lady who I think was in the next bed. All was not well with the “dottore” she told me. We had two days of utter panic and I wondered whether I should just get on a plane to Italy. I didn’t go. I know he would have told me not to, and if the end was near, he would have preferred me to remember him reciting Dante than lying in a hospital bed. Eventually I managed to speak to him.

“What is important is not my health, but the book you are going to write about living in the desert, in an utterly fake world,” were his first words. I told him that right now, his health was more important to me than anything. He laughed and said “OK, just for now.”

Thankfully he is pulling through. My superhero mother drove four hours yesterday to be with him and the reports are all good. He is going to have an operation, and he will need to have more help at home. But he should be fine.

And I am hoping to get on a plane before the end of the year, so that I can film him reciting Dante and keep it forever.

Guest blog from Penny Cooper

Posted on May 12, 2011 by Helena

Here is a guest blog from Penny Cooper. It is about one of my favourite subjects – anti-ageing.

Aging: How ready are you?
As we age, our bodies begin to show signs of getting older. Different people take it differently. The question is, how ready are you? Following are ten signs of ageing and some ways many individuals have found to age gracefully:

Expression Lines—Lines begin to become prominent around the eyes and mouth. These lines are a result of facial expressions, such as smiling, frowning and squinting. A non-surgical kind of facelift sometimes become an option for some individuals. They instant face lift tapes to be very helpful, but the results are temporary.

Age spots—Skin spots may appear. Many choose to cover these spots with moisturizing makeup. Some may seek treatment from a physician to remove the spots. A variety of medical treatments are now available to lessen, or even completely get rid of age spots, moles, skin tags and other pigmentations of the skin.

Loss of elasticity—Skin begins to lose some of its elasticity and wrinkles begin to appear. Eyes may become puffy or have dark circles under them. A loss of bone, moisture and muscle may also cause noticeable changes in the skin. Makeup and moisturizing creams are popular ways of masking these signs of aging. Most women opt for facelift a more youthful appearance. But like instant face lift tapes, the results are not permanent and worse at times.

Thinning hair—A number of aging factors contribute to hair loss, including diet and hormonal changes. In order to minimize the effects of hair loss, individuals may take multi-vitamins, undergo hair laser therapy or wear a wig if the hair loss becomes embarrassing.

Yellow teeth—Teeth may become stained and yellow from years of tea, coffee and other dark colored drinks. Surface build-up of bacteria and plaque can also lead to yellowed teeth as we grow older. Flossing and brushing on a regular basis are necessary to maintain good oral hygiene. Some may elect to have their teeth bleached by a professional or even use a number of over-the-counter whitening products.

Thin Eyelashes—As we grow older, our eyes lose some moisture and tear producing qualities. As a result, we may tend to rub our eyes more frequently. This can cause eyelashes to shed. Our eyelashes do not replenish as quickly as they did when we were younger, leaving us with thin eyelashes. Eye drops to restore moisture may reduce rubbing of the eyes. Some may choose to wear fake eyelashes if the problem is embarrassing.

Brittle nails—Like the skin, nails lose a large amount of moisture as we age. This may cause harsh, brittle nails and damaged cuticles. Many choose to use nail treatments and cuticle creams to restore moisture to their nails.

Hearing loss—Hearing loss may become more evident in older age. The eardrums begin to thicken and the auditory canals begin to thin. Hair cells in the inner ear may also become damaged over the years. Some individuals may find it necessary to be fitted with a hearing device in order to restore their hearing.

Sleeplessness—As we age, we tend to sleep less soundly. Some may wake up at various intervals throughout the night. While the amount of sleep needed does not necessarily change, the amount of time spent in bed or resting may need to be increased in order to get an adequate amount of sleep.

Bone loss—As we age, we lose bone and our skeletal system becomes frailer. Many find it necessary to make changes in diet, take multi-vitamins or supplements and even maintain a healthy exercise routine in order to keep bones strong.

Ageing not strictly neccessary

Posted on September 2, 2010 by Helena

Today I wore leopard-print skinny jeans (Top Shop, to die for), leopard-print shoes and scarf. And a white shirt.

“You still have the courage to wear leopard print?” asked a male colleague of a similar age to me.

“He thinks I’m too old to wear leopard-print,” I told another colleague as he left the room.

“Just ignore him,” she said.

“Maybe I am too old to wear leopard print.”

“Too old? With those legs? Don’t be silly.”

Last week in London my friend Annika and I behaved like teenagers, getting drunk and giggling. This week Demi Moore, who is even older than I am, posted pictures of herself on Twitter in her bathroom wearing nothing but skimpy underwear.

I have decided that ageing is not compulsory and that I am going to ignore it for the moment. I will not be posting semi-naked pictures of myself on Twitter or even Facebook. But I will wear my leopard-print skinny jeans for a while to come….

Better late than never…

Posted on July 17, 2010 by Helena

I don’t know what it is about popular culture but I seem to get onto it about a year after everyone else. Take Lady Gaga for example. Our magazine had her as the cover story last year. I naturally thought my story should be on the cover as opposed to some pop star I had never heard of. Today I bought her album – brilliant.

It’s the same story with Twilight. Today Leo and I watched New Moon. Which is better than the first one because you have the sexy Jacob to drool over as well. My stepson just asked me which one I prefer; Jacob or Edward. Both I replied. I think it’s unfair to discriminate.

I don’t know what it is about Twilight but there seems to be no age limit to its followers. I was introduced to it through, first and foremost, my children. But also by quite a few friends, some similar in age to me, who told me all about the new love of their lives, one Edward Cullen. Is it the brooding Darcy-style looks? The long lingering stares? Or the fact that he holds the most potent anti-ageing tool there is between his jaws?

If someone can explain the phenomena then please do. But even if no one can, I am happy just to be carried along. Eclipse on Monday…..here I fall……

Discovering yoga

Posted on February 10, 2010 by Helena

It is said that women of a certain age discover either God or gardening. I have instead discovered yoga. I can’t imagine life without it. And in fact looking back, one of my earliest memories of my mother is of her with her arms under her legs in some impossible position with her chest and head flat on the floor.

I don’t quite know what took me so long. OK so I dabbled before, but now I really think it is something I need to do every day and something I will keep doing for as long as I can.

Here at Shreyas of course we do it twice a day. Yesterday was amazing. I even got my nose down onto one leg in a forward bend. Something I never thought I would be able to do.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever done that,” I told the teacher and Carla. We are the only guests here right now, total heaven.

“You’ve got to have a very big nose,” said Carla.

Between yoga sessions, massages and writing part two of my novel (12902 words done so far) I am reading up about yoga and what it means. The word itself means union; which makes sense. It is the only exercise I have ever done where your body and mind are united.

I suppose in some ways that makes it a bit like sex. But if I had the choise, right now I’d opt for yoga. I guess that makes me a woman of a certain age…..

Party animals…

Posted on January 3, 2010 by Helena

There are many things I would describe myself as; efficient, busy, prone to car-sickness, grumpy when tired to name a few, but not a party animal. In fact my ideal evening would normally include being in bed by 9.30 and often asleep before the children are.

Imagine my surprise then when I found myself dancing on my terrace at 5am New Year’s Day.

It is amazing how fast the hours between midnight and 5am go. One minute it’s 11.30 and you’re thinking; almost there, almost time to go to bed and then whooosh suddenly it’s 5am and you have danced to ‘I will survive’ and ‘Valerie’ 14 times each.

I have a theory that life is a little like this too. That the years after 40 accelerate and life just whizzes by.

So one of my New Year’s Resolutions is to have lots more parties.

It was great fun, but less fun when at 7am Leo came storming into our room. When I explained why I was so tired he looked very angry.

“Didn’t you think you would be tired for Rafa?”

Happily my interview had been and gone, but we were off to claim Bea’s raffle prize. When we got there, it was the Swedish player Robin Soderling and not Rafa, which Bea was fine with happily. And before you start complaining about the quality of the picture, I was probably still squiffy from the night before. At least they’re both in it, just.

Another one of my New Year’s resolutions is to speak more Swedish with them in case Soderling ever become the world number one (which is looking likely, he was great during the tournament).

All in all an amazing New Year; Rafa, parties, book deal, masses of tennis, our friends from France, lots of food and wine. Now it is time to get back to ‘normal’ life. Except for the odd party until 5 am that is….

A perfect birthday

Posted on December 17, 2009 by Helena

Apart from the fact that I didn’t get the Ferrari and Marat Safin didn’t call me and offer to become my personal tennis coach I had as brilliant a birthday as a girl can hope for.

Being born close to Christmas is a bummer, but I think that at this ripe old age I have finally found a way round it. You have a birthday party. People come with presents instead of just bunging you a card and saying “I’ll get you a big present for Christmas instead”.

The children were as nicely behaved as I have ever seem them; Leo’s job was to greet people downstairs and send them up to the terrace where our friend Sandra had created a wonderfully candlelit louche setting with fabric awnings, beanbags and rugs. The girls manned the bar. It is hardly surprising we got through 20 bottles of champagne in a few short hours; once those two get on a mission there is no stopping them. But they were all charming, all evening. Leo eventually fell asleep around 11pm on one of the beanbags. When I said to him this morning that I was so touched they were all so well behaved he said: “It was your birthday mummy, we haded to.”

terrace

The guests were all great. I have a theory that a drinks party is only dull if you invite dull people. And as it was my birthday I didn’t see any need to invite anyone I would resent being stuck chatting to. We had an eclectic mix; two ambassadors and my seriously foxy yoga teacher among them. Rupert has vowed to re-think his attitude to the downward dog.

What surprised me I suppose is just how many really good friends I have made here in just over a year. I don’t think I could have had such a large soiree of people I really like in France after almost nine years. Although of course we have some great friends in France whom I miss terribly. And Norrie and Mary in the Savoie also added to the euphoria over my birthday by sending me a copy of the new ITV Wuthering Heights and singing ‘Happy Birthday to you’ on the phone. But my point is that I think here, because you are so removed from Europe, you make good friends very quickly and there is also a bigger pool of potential friends because there are so many more people in the same situation as you are in.

Whatever the reason, as I surveyed the presents this morning (not one duff one among them; Chanel handbag (almost real), Girl’s Night Out Five CD set, book on Yoga, Clarins bubble bath, Estee Lauder lip plumping gloss, several gift vouchers to spas, lots of bottles of wine, a gorgeous necklace and more) I realised that I may have a hangover from hell and be middle-aged (yuk) but there are a lot of great people living here who really seem to know what I want. Including my office who gave me a huge bunch of pink flowers. I have rarely felt so loved on a birthday as this year. Maybe next year someone will show up with the Ferrari and my birthday really will be totally perfect….