It hurts to age.

Not that I'm that old. In just over a week I'm turning 33 - for the second time. I'll do thirty four next year - I'm not ready for it now.

Years ago, when I was young, I used to work events that saw me standing for hours on end in high heeled shoes. Smiling and handing awards to an MC in the correct order, walking the floor at a formal dinner for 2 or 3 hundred guests wasn't unusual. Bullying waiters if they were too slow, chasing the in-house electrician to perform miracles on a dodgy AV presentation, winding up the musicians when they played too long and controlling the bar bill with merciless cruelty.

At the end of the evening my feet would be tired, toes pinced, ankles tired. A hot shower, a brief lie down and all was good to go again. Not so these days.

I've just come off a 4 hour function, heels - but sensible ones - not stiletto. My feet ache, and they will for days. In fact they ache most the time now, particularly the right.

My big toe cracks almost every time I raise it, and the ball of my foot is a constant knot. In fact I can't walk around the block without my back aching in united protest.

I can run, that's alright. A kilometre or so to warm up and I'm fine, apart from a general deteriotation in fitness that's been rife since the age of 14. It's just walking or standing or even sitting still that hurts. Particularly times like now, when my body reminds me of the wonders of womanhood. Then I get lower back ache to compete with the ankles, the feet and the hips.

I guess the good news is that while my body is deterioting other things are improving. I'm healthier and wealthier than I've ever been before. I'm writing and have learnt that I'm not always the first to be wrong - though often still am.

Just wait until I'm 40 (still in denial and pretending that will happen next year), by then I'll have dental problems, varicose veins and other such delights to add to the menu.