WELL, I blame it on all those Saga brochures. They have a lot to answer for. Marriage is in decline. One in three women is now still single at the age of 35. Perhaps because of careers, independence, inadequate men, plain pickiness or the incredible chew of organising a wedding. But for whatever reasons, fewer than ever 30-somethings have tied the knot.

Meanwhile, those that have are untying it. The biggest number of divorces is between those under 30 - maybe they can see all the fun their single friends are having.

But quietly, the other big growth area in divorces is the over 50s, even the over 60s. Just when you think couples might have sorted themselves out, resolved their differences and learnt to get along quite nicely - wham - one of them socks in the divorce papers.

Till death us do part was all very well when it was only a short stagger from the empty nest or retirement day to popping your clogs. But now it's a whole new world. The endless vista of retirement stretches for many years into some blue-skied, sunny future.

It's impossible to pick up a paper or magazine without seeing 60-somethings sailing off on cruises, strolling along the Great Wall of China, pedalling their bikes, their

joints flexing, their teeth firm, their eyesight lasered. And not even any need yet for a walk-in bath.

You can see, can't you, that expectations have been raised. And the thought of striding into this brave new world with last year's model is giving quite a few people second thoughts about second chances.

So what with late starters and earlier finishers, there won't be much of a window for marriage soon. Maybe from 35-50 say. Not so much a lifetime commitment, more a short-term contract.

Because if you can't even trust your gran to stay married, then there's precious little hope for anyone else.

SO WILFING, that's what it is... Wilfing or "What was I looking for?" is the wonderful new name given to that habit of endlessly roaming round the internet looking at not very much really. You know how it is, you log on to look something up and soon you are distracted.

Yes, I know, it's easily done. But it's fun. That's why when I was, quite legitimately, researching foreign newspapers for an article last week, I ended up listening to a lovely Irish man singing Lillbulero to me...

But let's not blame the internet. I can spend hours wilfing through a dictionary, the small ads, any reference book or even the back of make up jars. That's why I can tell you what regenerating night cream is in French, German, Italian, Polish, Greek, Romanian, Spanish, Swedish, Danish, Norwegian......

There are people who can stick directly to the task in hand. Then there are the rest of us.

The first lot might get more done. But the rest of us have a much more interesting time. So, carry on wilfing. It can only broaden the mind.

HUNDREDS of desperate bargain hunters stormed the doors of new Primark store in London's Oxford Street last week. Queues stretched round the block, it took nearly an hour to get in and nearly another hour to get to the tills. A door was broken, people were hurt, security guards were at full stretch and, all in all, it was absolute chaos. And also terrifying.

It wasn't even a new shop - just a new branch of a familiar store, selling the same things as in most of their other stores.

But just the hint of a new bag at a bargain price had the hordes desperate to get in. This wasn't retail therapy, this was retail madness. All common sense blown out of the window - along with some of the glass.

Meanwhile, in every other Primark store, customers could get on with their shopping in peace and comfort, without even having to pay the fare into central London.

But when did bargain hunters think sensibly?