An email from the UK Times informs me that someone called Caitlan Moran is exhorting us women to never apologise for who we are. In this pursuit, she uses what a person I was very fond of (no longer with us) used to call a strap line, which goes as follows:
‘Oh, fierce women of middle years, I salute you! You are me and I am you!’
What kind of useless am I? That phrase just makes me uncomfortable. I am not fierce and I don’t want to be. Not because I’m a wimp, but because I think there is far too much of this fierce stuff about and not enough reasonable debate - and fierceness is actually extremely uncivilised . Much as I have always loved London’s famous statue of Boadicea, surely Britain’s fiercest ever woman, my affection has always been for its form rather than its subject. Where did fierceness actually get Boadicea (oh all right Boudicca, if you really must, no need to get fierce about that, surely?)? Having led a failed uprising, the B woman killed herself so far as I can remember. Hardly a career worth aspiring to.
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