Last weekend was a bit of a milestone for me, having spent the past few years sniggering at friends as they reached their 40th birthdays, it was me blowing out the candles.

It’s funny how I remember as a teenager working out that 2013 would be the ‘magic’ year and wondering what life would be like. I don’t think there is anyone in the world who can truly imagine what life holds for them.

Back then, adult years were simply going to be the opportunity to stay out until whenever I wanted and not have to go to school. Fast forward 25 years and yes, it’s true, I can stay out, but I can’t actually remember the time that I wanted to, let alone actually had the energy to.

I may not have to go to school, but there are some evenings, after a full day of work and an hour spent struggling over year six maths homework, I sorely wish I still did.

The ageing process is without doubt, more traumatic for women than men. We are constantly bombarded by images of young, beautiful women with smooth wrinkle- free skin and pert bodies.

For men, middle-aged role models are in abundance. George Clooney, Brad Pitt and for those of a less aesthetic disposition, dear old Dave of Downing Street. For us women we have Helen Mirren, Judi Dench, not forgetting Margaret Thatcher, Prime Minister at 54.

There is certainly no shortage of female grey inspiration and the Queen is doing a pretty good job of proving that there is still a role for the more mature woman.

But society is sadly a more cruel judge of women than men.

Granted, 40 is not exactly old. The average life expectancy for women is now 82.8 years, with men lagging slightly behind at 79 so I’m hopefully not quite half way.

The watershed moment for me was the realisation that I have slipped silently out of the 25 to 39 bracket. A whole 10 years too old for a Club 18-30 holiday, and a whole 10 years too young to qualify for a Saga holiday. I’m currently cruising no-man's land. We’ve all heard the clichés and apparently 40 is the new 30.

At 30, I was in a permanent state of tiredness, trying to juggle a fledgling career and nocturnal babies. Stuck somewhere between a militant teenager, the desire to start wearing comfortable shoes and still work a pair of hotpants. At 40, I feel much more comfortable with who I am. I know I’m too old to go out wearing a skin tight hipsters. I’ve done the baby thing, and although there are new challenges, with a regular eight hours sleep, I can tackle them head on. I haven’t yet saved the world, which is a bit of a blow, but I’m slowly coming to terms with that. I do feel like I make a teeny bit of difference each day though.

I’ve never been too bothered about the physical aspects of ageing. It’s true, I can’t hide a bad night’s sleep and my laughter lines look like I must be married to a comedian but I’ve yet to be tempted by pumping poison under my skin in the name of eternal youth and I’m fairly sure I’m happy to stick with thin lips rather than risk a trout pout. I’ve been dyeing my hair for almost as long as I can remember. In fact, I’m really not sure what colour it actually is, though I’d place money on there being significantly more grey than I’d like. I moisturise and buff like the best of them, even though I know that genetics are the biggest indicator of how I’ll fare. Thank goodness for my beautiful mum.

Forty has brought with it a sense of comfort. No longer the sleek designer showpiece chair (not that I ever was), more the slightly worn but comfortingly elegant sofa. A bit more shabby than chic but holding my own. I care less about what people think of me and I’m not so concerned what I think of them either and that’s such a relief. If there’s one character trait guaranteed to make me cringe, it’s smugness. I’ve been at birthday parties where a speech has given listing achievements like a shopping list. For me, being 40 is not about what I’ve already done but more about what there is still left to do. There’s a world to see and metaphorical mountains still to climb.

As trite as it sounds, last weekend was about the recognition of the friends and family who have moulded me over the past 40 years.

How dull life would be without people who love you and who you can love back.