One Thing or a Mother: Our Worthing columnist asks if she’s too old for clubbing

I’m not sure 40-year-old mums of two should go clubbing. In London. Having started the day with a prosecco on the train at 9am...

The last few weeks – when the social diary has been rather packed – notwithstanding, my life is usually a carousel of work, not getting enough cleaning done and plenty of trips to National Trust properties with my family.

Sweating it out on a dancefloor of a basement club, surrounded by people possibly young enough to be my children (what an horrific, ageing thought!) doesn’t usually feature on my radar.

But it was one of my besties’ 40th birthday, so we ‘went large’ in the capital. And despite wondering if other club-dwellers might have been asking who let the mum-dancing lunatic into their domain, it was an absolutely fantastic weekend.

Only downside is that I’m sure for every decade you reach, an extra day is added to your recovery period. I swear it took me until Tuesday to feel vaguely normal again.

So, while it was so much fun, and great to be able to let our hair down and dance until our feet could take no more, this weekend will be a much more subdued affair. Stand by for tales of baking with the kids, and possibly a trip to Nymans. Bye for now!

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