Increasingly I find myself embracing my inner little old lady.

Little old ladies are scary buggers. They are not the people to mess with, if you’re ever given a choice. Whilst some of the little old ladies that I know can be the sweetest people alive, they also give the fewest fucks about living up to expectations, and just occasionally, they are the meanest humans to ever walk this earth. Never ask a little old lady what they think of your looks, your clothes, your politics, or anything really, unless you’re happy with a brutally honest reply.

So a few years ago, I finally decided that I’d sat for long enough in a hairdresser’s salon, and allowed my hair to revert to its natural colour. I like to describe it as silver, but I’m entirely ok with the idea of steely grey. When I turn around, people are shocked with how much younger my face looks than my hair colour might imply – and you never really want it to be the other way around.

Last Summer, I spent my entire life living in a version of the same free-flowing linen dress, which could plausibly be described as a bit “Maid Marion”. It’s not quite a sack as it fits too well cross the shoulders but it’s certainly not shapely, not hugging my menopausal waistline. It does happen to be incredibly comfortable, easy to wear and has pockets, something most women’s clothes seem to bizarrely lack. Trousers make no sense to me whatsoever at this stage of life.

Having worn my little-old-lady dresses to death, I’ve invested in similar free-flowing linen dresses for this year. I can dress them warm with leggings and thin under-layer long sleeve t-shirts or just wear them as they are on the warmer days. And forget heels. I’m wearing flats these days because they just feel better on my feet. And when I write flats, I mean comfortable well-made flats, none of that trendy platform nonsense, though clogs are tempting.

I will not be one of those tiny “attractive” flirty little old ladies. I am growing into a battle-axe persona with considerable joy.

When someone beeps their horn behind me as I drive along, I’m now more likely to stop my car, get out and politely ask them if there’s a problem that I need to know about. When some young men look to be hassling a young girl on the metro or bus, I’m almost certain to ask the girl if she’s ok and, if pushed, tell the young men that they should be ashamed of themselves for being such bullies.

I am also much more interested in my garden, my tennis, visiting galleries with girlfriends and playing bridge, because this stuff is fun. The people that I meet through all of these activities are entertaining and exasperating but mostly out to have a good time, rather than pick a fight or score points on some unknown cosmic ego scale.

And all of this means that I spend more time with women than men, which is just a lot more pleasant. Men are harder work than women in everyday life and at each stage of life, and I’ve reached a point where mostly they just don’t seem to be worth the effort anymore. My partner is obviously worthwhile, but other people’s men, not so much. men are just too convinced that they’re entertaining intrinsically and without effort. It’s just not true and never has been.

The world pretends young men’s opinions have some value out of politeness, just as parents pretend everything their toddlers do and say has some significance, but now if men are basically talking bollocks, it seems entirely reasonable to point it out or just note that I disagree with them without a need to make an argument at all. Why dignify a half-arsed opinion with a logical rebuttal?

Maybe men die earlier, often when they retire because no one can be arsed to spend time with them anymore, not even their own wives and daughters. Men do not seem to age well. I have run out of patience for sitting at a party asking a man questions, waiting for them to ask anything about me or my life, where they mistake my politeness for interest and their own monologue as conversation. Fuck off.

I’m a little old lady now and if you want me to pay you some attention then be interesting or interested. Only family get a free-pass for my time and attention.