Silver splitters

Apparently there's a rising trend for "silver splitters" - older couples who divorce in their fifties or sixties, often after decades of marriage, and either marry again or stay single. They no longer want to stay together till the bitter end, but decide to split up and make a new start while there's still plenty of their life left.

But one relationship counsellor says that people underestimate the consequences of splitting, both for themselves and other family members. It can be much more expensive than they thought, it can greatly upset their children, and it can be hard to cast aside the psychological bonds of a long-lasting relationship.

Personally, I can't imagine leaving Jenny and starting again with someone else. After so many years of forging such close bonds with each other, I'm sure it would be incredibly difficult to begin that process all over again with another person. At every step I'd be bringing a whole lot of emotional baggage from my previous relationship, which surely would get in the way of making a new one.

Of course if your existing relationship is disastrous, if there's domestic violence, if you have fiercely differing views on many subjects, if you simply don't get on, if your partner is an alcoholic or a drug addict, then it's a lot easier to make the break, though even then there may be a reluctance to give up on a relationship you've invested so much in over so many years.

Then again, some former spouses simply don't want another relationship. They decide they're perfectly happy living on their own. As one divorcee put it: "All of my girl friends who have got divorced went wild in the year afterwards. They were having a blast dating guys."

What you might call Silver Seducers.

No recollection

I've always envied people with excellent memories, and always seen my own dreadful memory as an embarrassing deficit. But that's not necessarily the case. I'm realising that in some ways a poor memory can be a distinct advantage, and not a liability at all.

My sister has a photographic memory, and my father was the same. My memory in comparison with theirs is sadly lacking.

But having such a superb memory isn't always an asset. You can remember in great detail occasions when someone slighted you, offended you, upset you, or betrayed you. You might feel a lasting sense of grievance that your memory is endlessly reviving.

I on the other hand rapidly forget most of those incidents, leaving me unaware that someone once offended me and allowing me to move on without that emotional baggage.

I know I was bullied at boarding school, but I don't remember how I was bullied or who was bullying me, or how upset I must have been at the time. All I know is that I was bullied, and it just becomes a sort of minor historical detail.

I can avidly reread a book, knowing I've completely forgotten what I originally read and can therefore enjoy it as if for the first time. The characters and plot seem entirely fresh and unfamiliar.

I'll forget all the beginner's errors and mortifying mistakes that occurred in my various workplaces and recall only the successes. So instead of thinking "that job was a disaster" I think "I did that job pretty well."

I'll blot out how traumatic it was enduring many months of next-door neighbours keeping us awake with constant all-night parties. Now I only remember it as an annoying episode that thankfully came to an end.

Yes, it can be frustrating when I forget something really important, but a bad memory isn't the awful burden I often imagine it to be.

Happy as I am

I seldom imagine someone else's life to be better than my own. I'm happy with my life, with all its ups and downs, and I know the seemingly fabulous lives I read about often hide miseries and tragedies I wouldn't want to be burdened with.

In fact it's now routine for celebs to reel off the horrible experiences they've had to deal with, as if to say, don't bother to envy me, I'm no better off than you are - except that I have fame and money. Which is a bit of a cushion, granted, but it's no protection against grief, depression, domestic violence or those everyday problems we all run into.

In fact fame and money often make life harder. Divorces are horrendous, as each spouse tries to claim the maximum share of the marital assets. You can never be quite sure if someone is a genuine friend or a gold-digger. You're forever in the spotlight and being mercilessly criticised and picked to bits.

But even people with more ordinary lives don't make me want to swop. However happy and fulfilled they might seem on the outside, who knows what emotional and mental baggage they're carrying around? Who knows what they're carefully concealing? Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.

The truth is I'm thoroughly familiar with all my personal quirks and oddities and I've learnt how to deal with them. I know how to exploit my strengths and minimise my weaknesses. If I suddenly fell into someone else's life, I'd have to get acquainted with a brand new personality. I'd be floundering around like a dog on an ice rink.

It would be fun to swop with someone for a week, say. Just to see if their life really is better than mine. I suspect I'd soon be tearing my hair out.