From time to time, I have had my mugshot above a story in the Recorder.

I have to hand it to the writers – my rather peculiar details are always very accurately reported. There was the time when a certain national paper, known for its occasional slip-ups, quoted me as Carol Ann Easter because it didn’t know that women could be canons.

But, while he’s welcome to print anything about me that he thinks might encourage or amuse his readers, our editor knows that to make any allusions whatsoever to the number of years I’ve been on this earth is to risk prosecution!

I absolutely hate the sort of reporting that starts: “Forty-three-year-old mother of two,” or “grandfather, 71,” because I think that, except in certain rare circumstances, people’s ages are just totally irrelevant.

I am reminded of the famous Jenny Joseph poem, Warning, which begins:

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple, With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

That poem started The Red Hat Society, which is dedicated to the celebration and enjoyment of maturity, particularly in women who encourage each other to make up for the sobriety of youth when, so often, our lives are blighted and restricted by our concern about what other people think and our need to fit in.

I’m sad to think of the limitations we put on ourselves when, all the time, God and the whole company of heaven is urging us on, into the unknown and unexplored, longing for us to take risks and step outside our comfort zones as we try to make this world a better place.

The great thing is that, when we do, we find out more about ourselves and about God too.

So, here’s my red hat…