On the go

As someone whose get-up-and-go gets up and goes on a pretty regular basis, I completely fail to understand this modern obsession with being constantly on the go.

If you believe the claims of women's magazines and advertisers, a woman of my approximate age and education level should last have sat down and put her feet up some time back in mid-1994.  Because the hectic pace of modern life is that relentless that I quite literally do not ever get the time to take a moment or two to myself, that's why I'm assumed to need such 'essentials' as Starbucks takeaway tall skinny cappucino lattes, plastic pots of cereal with the milk already poured into them, trainers you do up with strips of velcro and paper knickers that you can recycle as bog paper should you unfortunately get caught short when forced to partake of a quick whazz during your weekly supermarket sweep of Tescos (or Waitrose I should be shopping in, only I'm still not possessed of the budget to purchase more than a £10 Friday night dinner for 2 special).

And apparently I'm meant to be as grovellingly grateful as Uriah Heep for the opportunity to spill a river of semi-skimmed milk and cornflakes down my just-back-from-the-drycleaners trenchcoat as I dash up the escalators at Covent Garden tube station, not even having enough time to let the automatic stairs give my poor weary limbs a lift up to the surface.

Let's be honest here - lacking a husband and kids is probably a massive help.