Graduating to excess

What’s more we walked to the disco and tottered home afterwards. No stretch limos, helicopters, fire engines, vintage cars or London buses – which seem to be this year’s transport of delight, chugging round the region bedecked in ribbons.

But it’s costing parents a fortune. At least all I had to do was fork out for the hire of black tie suits for the boys. And I probably grumbled about that…

Now for girls the whole shebang includes dress, hair, make up, shoes, tooth whitening, manicure, pedicure and spray tan. Unless, like the father quoted in a weekend paper, you also send your daughter to Spain for a week “so she could get a natural tan….”

No wonder the prom industry in this country is now worth a staggering £100 million – which might be just a fraction more than the old school disco.

No wonder weddings are getting bigger and dafter and ever more extravagant – they’ve got to outdo the prom for a start and every year the bar gets higher.

Although the prom seems great fun, it can also be yet another pressure on an already very pressurised generation. Exam results, posh frock, perfect make-up AND perfect teeth. And the constant worry over how you’re measuring up against your classmates.

I wonder about the girls whose parents can’t or won’t afford it. Is their misery worth the pleasure of those who can? And that strange mismatch between the sexes. Girls of 16 or 18 are scarily sophisticated. Not a word you’d use for most 16 or 18 year old lads…

James Bond? Most of them would probably be happier with the relaxed and scruffy old style disco, complete with warm orange squash.

And they could always what we did – and just slide off to the pub afterwards…

ONE of the best things I ever did was to snap my Achilles tendon. Ouch, yes – but I did it just before Senior Son’s first school sports day.

So as other mothers raced up and down in the heat being horribly competitive, I sat on the sidelines, smug in plaster and crutches, for once not embarrassing my sons. Next year, of course. I didn’t dare risk the recently mended tendon. And by then a rule was established – I didn’t do the Mums’ race. Ever.

That’s what I call a winner.

WHEN they’re swearing on court at Wimbledon, and even Ascot seems to have abandoned its dress code and was full of falling down drunks, brother-in-law, 87, reports that Henley Royal Regatta is still a model of respectable behaviour. No mobile phones, no swearing.

And, on the hottest day of the year – 35 degrees – after lunch, gentlemen were allowed to remove their blazers. But not their ties. Ooh no. Standards must be maintained…

GREY POWER: Lady Gaga

AT A recent lunch where many of the women were over 60, there was hardly a grey hair to be seen. Lots of blonde highlights, rich auburns and flattering caramel colours. But grey? No way.

But now grey is the new blonde. As well as natural greys- Judi Dench, Christine Lagarde, suddenly celebrities are channelling their inner old lady and going grey overnight – Carla Delevinge, Lady Gaga. Kelly Osbourne. Fifty shades of grey wherever you look.

At this rate, blonde highlights are going to be a real sign of old age.

SO there’s another little nail in the coffin of the Post Office…

From the end of this month you won’t be able to buy Premium Bonds at the post office counter. Shame. One in five bonds is still bought there but that’s not good enough for National Savings and Investments. Now we’ll have to buy them by post or online instead. For years now you’ve had to buy £100 at a time. So what are small savers meant to do?

For generations the Post Office was the happy home of small savers. Those of a certain age will remember savings stamps. They had pictures of Prince Charles (2/6) and Princess Anne (6d) , both looking angelic in smocked tops, and we were encouraged to buy them and save up for savings certificates.

It was all done through school – another job for teachers – but we absorbed the idea of saving along with Janet And John and simple sums.

When banks were still for the comparatively rich, everyone had a post office savings book. I opened mine with £1 when I was seven and every now and then would deposit an occasional shilling and felt incredibly important when the clerk stamped my book with a flourish.

True, it didn’t do much for post office profits but it made my generation committed savers which seemed pretty sort of sensible.

Then the post office got above itself and is pushing everyone out of its doors. Child benefit in cash every week? Forget it. Pensions, car tax and most savings are now done directly or online. Otherwise your options are limited. You need £500 to open a branch based savings account. Another account pays no interest at all if you have less than £500 .

Of course it makes good business sense. The post office needs to make money and it’s experimenting with a smaller number of services in a larger number of outlets for longer hours. But on the way, we’ve lost something important too.

For most of us it doesn’t matter. Who needs to save with the post office anyway?We can get much better deals elsewhere and bank on the go via our phones. No problem.

But the post office was always on the side of the people who didn’t have many other options.

Now it’s not. And that’s a loss for us all.

YOU don’t hear of men being called “pushy” do you? Only in women is it considered a fault. An assertive man is admired. An assertive woman still struggles to be taken seriously.

Now Judy Murray, who’s had more than her share of criticism, mockery and abuse for the tigerish way she supports her sons, is trying to get us to see pushiness as a female virtue not a vice.

Maybe if Andy wins Wimbledon again…

SEVEN out of ten of us are unhappy with our homes, according to some new survey. We all want something bigger, better, more convenient or cleverly designed and better decorated. Well of course we do. It’s built into our DNA.

For if humans were all absolutely happy with where we lived, then we’d all still be living in caves, wouldn’t we?