In Praise Of The Lines Etched Deeply Into Judi Dench's Face.

This is what a woman looks like when she ages. Remember?

The other day I was at the library with a lot of older people. One lady had long silver hair that was so extraordinarily gorgeous I nearly asked her if I could take a photo. I wish I did. Imagine if people with grey hair were actually superheroes? That it takes your whole life to reach a place where grey hair symbolises wisdom and respect and was highly praised and coveted?

Last week I complimented a lady who works in the supermarket on her bob, because she grew it out from being short. It's a gorgeous grey, and when I told her it looks really good she told me that nobody had complimented her hair for years.

Judi Dench played M in Skyfall recently, and very nearly upstaged James Bond himself. There's a scene where the villain, Javier Bardem ... displays distinct sexual overtones to her. Last time in film a seventy-five year old actress was portrayed as a sexual being? No idea. With her grey hair and lined face, it was the best thing I'd seen in some time. Recognition of something that is usually invisible.

In the past year, my hair has gone really grey. Dave looks at my regrowth with a touch of ... panic?

"Hon - whyn't you get your hair done? You'll feel better!"

I've laughed and said I don't care at the moment. I look in the mirror and finally understand how people say they've earned their grey hair.

I asked Dave if he's ever thought of dying his hair - of course not. He's getting hotter with his salt and pepper. The thought of dying his hair is ludicrous.

I made an appointment to get my roots done this week, because it feels like I'm "letting myself go." Annoying.

One day I'll go grey. Maybe grow it long, tie it in a plait and get teased by children on the bus. If I'm going to age, I'm going to age properly.