‘The flight was delayed for four hours, my suitcases are still stuck in Miami and it’s taken me 24 hours to work through my inbox. How do you think it feels?’ she replied.

Silly question, really. My friend has crash-landed into a bad case of the post-holiday blues. And with the summer holidays at an end, I’m sure you know the feeling.

One minute you’re sipping a glass of something chilled in a beachside bistro without a care in the world.

The next there’s that despair as you realise all those problems you promised yourself you’d deal with ‘after the holiday’ are there waiting for you — along with a large credit-card bill.

Add to that the grim weather and the prospect of entertaining the children through another three weeks of the school holidays, and is it any wonder that by the time you get back to Britain, you feel as let down as that inflatable dolphin you’ve ­wrestled into your luggage?

Post-holiday blues is now a ­recognised ­phenomenon, with as many as 83 per cent of people ­admitting to feeling ­depressed about returning to work from their ­summer break.

There’s even a formula to calculate how likely you are to suffer the condition.

Apparently it’s all to do with your job satisfaction added to your relationship with your colleagues, multiplied by your ability to relax.

Why we need such an equation I have no idea — I find the uncontrollable sobbing on the ­commute into work is usually a dead giveaway.

For a few, the blues start before they’ve even got on the plane. ‘I get a sinking feeling, as if I only have a couple more days to live,’ says my friend Anna.

‘By the last night, I’m so depressed I drink too much. It’s so sad knowing that there are these things you can do on holiday that you won’t be able to do at home — like wearing a kaftan and being seen reading a Jeffrey Archer novel.’

According to research, it takes an average of 6.21 hours after the plane lands for the blues to hit home. Unless your pilot announces that the weather is ‘eight degrees, overcast with a touch of drizzle’ — in which case the effect is instantaneous.

For most of us, though, the misery really kicks in when we get back to work. One in nine of us phones in sick because we just can’t face it.

‘The first thing I do when I get to work after a holiday is work out my pension entitlement to see if there’s any chance of giving up and walking out,’ says Claire, a publishing executive.

‘I spend the first week back fantasising about raising ­chickens in the sun, until ­gradually I get sucked into work and realise that I’d probably be allergic to the feathers anyway.’ Away from the daily grind, you begin to see your workplace for what it truly is.

Or, as another friend puts it: ‘Holiday blues means seeing office politics for the waste of life they are.’ And it’s not just at work the blues happen. ­Relationship experts say that post-holiday is the peak time for break-ups.

Of course, it could simply be that the strain of spending two weeks watching your nearest and dearest posing in a pair of Speedos has finally pushed you to breaking point.

But it’s more likely that it’s the sheer awfulness of returning to reality after such a tantalising glimpse of heaven, that causes the cracks to appear.

So how do we stop the post-holiday blues? The experts are full of advice on how to combat the problem, from the bizarre (wearing your bikini under your work clothes) to the drastic (deleting your inbox and taking a siesta in the canteen).

Last year, Virgin Holidays even launched a range of room scents designed to keep that holiday high going for longer.

Although quite how the aroma of flip-flops is supposed to stop you wanting to strangle that commuter with the permanent sniff I’m not sure.

But most people agree that the best way to get over a bad case of the post-holiday blues is to book yourself another one as soon as possible.

According to a study published in the Applied Research In Quality Of Life ­journal, people gain a bigger happiness boost during the eight weeks prior to their holiday than from the holiday itself.

Because, let’s face it, the ­holiday itself isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be.

But when you’re sitting in your dreary office dreaming of the new, healthier, thinner, better, sun-kissed you handing in that long overdue resignation letter and skipping off into the sunset — well, it doesn’t get much ­better than that.

Have workmen stopped ­wolf-whistling when you stroll past? Do control pants sit comfortably in your ­lingerie drawer?

Are the leaflets that drop through your ­letterbox special offers for cruise holidays rather than invites to designer clothes sales? If so, you are in all probability a formerly woman: formerly thin, formerly hot, ­formerly hip.

Author and journalist Stephanie Dolgoff, ­married with twin seven-year-old girls, has coined the formerly title to describe in-between women in their 30s and 40s — who have left their roaring 20s behind, but still haven’t reached hot flush territory.

So, are you just the other side of young yet? Read this hilarious extract from Stephanie’s new book to find out …

YOU KNOW YOU ARE FORMERLY HOT WHEN…

*   You catch yourself recommending items from the Lakeland catalogue to friends. How could anybody possibly live without a ­telescopic duster?
* You can’t tell whether your black leather mini skirt that once said ‘cool rock chick’ now screams ‘DFS sofa upholstery’.
* The men who approach you on public ­transport to ask the time really do just want to know if they are going to be late for work.
* You’ve noticed the undersides of your upper arms have started to flap like the ­plastic bunting hanging outside used car dealerships.
* You catch yourself dancing energetically around the kitchen to a favourite Blondie tune being played on TV — only to realise it’s the soundtrack for a fish oil supplement advert.
*  Waiters have started calling you madam.

WHY IT’S FAB TO BE A FORMERLY…

YOU DON’T CRY ON YOUR PILLOW

Remember in your teens and 20s when pop songs about heartbreak, betrayal and being misunderstood seemed like they were written for you? When life was all drama and upheaval?

These days, as a formerly, aside from the ­occasional miracle of birth or unexpected ­crisis, you’re finding life is on a pretty even keel.

Yes, it may seem a little boring not crying into your pillow at night over the latest boy to dump you, but hey, you did find that surprise £10 note in the pocket of your jeans.
And you got an extra hour’s sleep last night.
You’re not embarrassed any more

I remember a work Christmas party that I attended a couple of years ago. I was the only person over 30, so most of the music being played was utterly foreign to me.

Yet everyone else squealed in ­unison when a tune they recognised came on, dropped their forks and dragged each other onto the dance floor as I finished off their desserts.

Then, suddenly, the inevitable Seventies and Eighties medley started being played.
Whether it was muscle memory or a subconscious part of me that wanted to prove I, too, had busted a few moves in my time, I leapt up and began dancing wildly to tracks that hadn’t been heard since ­Margaret Thatcher was prime minister.

Surrounded by a crowd of ­clapping and whooping youngsters, it suddenly struck me they could be ­laughing at me rather than with me. But, unlike when I was young, it was a relief to realise that now, as a formerly, I really didn’t care.

Why should I let anyone else spoil my fun?

LAUGHTER LINES ARE LOVELY

Unfortunately, bad face days are a fact of formerly-dom. Lately I’ve been getting them twice a week — usually when I haven’t had enough sleep. And, unlike bad hair days, they are hard to disguise. There is no baseball cap for your face, unless you count big sunglasses.

The good news is that after about 45 minutes of being ­vertical, many of the symptoms of a bad face day (puffiness, dark circles and ­indentations from the ­earrings you fell asleep in) ­subside on their own.

Others can be painted over or tweezed away. Still, if I said I was loving the way things were going my nose would grow, which would make a bad face day much worse.

Sometimes I fantasise about surgery, but my friends who have had Botox or facelifts are still unhappy with their looks.

I’ve decided there is no point in getting stressed. Stress gives you wrinkles and ages the skin more rapidly.

The best way I’ve found to deal with the effects of ageing is to laugh at myself. Laughter, even the ­occasional rueful kind, is beautiful.

YOU CAN ALWAYS BUY NEW SHOES

Let’s face it, you no longer have the fashion freedom you once ­possessed. In your 20s you could wear something crazy just because you felt like it — and ­people smiled at your youthful daringness.

If you put on an eccentric outfit today they would be more likely to think ‘crazy bag lady’ or, arguably worse, ‘midlife crisis’.

However, one way you can still express yourself is with shoes. Orange suede, sequins, ­crystals, buckles and crazy heels are all allowed.

SEX IMPROVES WITH AGE

I am pro-sex. That has been my ­official stance since I started ­having it in my late teens — and I’ve never wavered. I think sex is one of the great perks of being human. In ­theory, I enjoy it very much.

In practice, things are a bit more complicated now I’m a formerly. Not only must I be relaxed, well-fed (but not bloated) and not feeling annoyed with my husband, but the children must also be in deep REM sleep, there must be no bills, ­laundry or toys on the bed and all computers and mobile phones must be turned off.

I prefer not to be feeling fat — or worried about work. Oh, and I also have to be awake, which after work and kids and everything else is unlikely after 10pm.
Libido-snuffing lifestyle not ­withstanding, the best part of sex nowadays is that the whole ­endeavour feels less actressy.

I’m less influenced by the gloss of television and movies, less ­concerned about appearing sexy — I don’t worry if I’m ‘doing it right’.

Being realistic, knowing yourself and knowing what you need in love as you get older is a huge bonus.

If ­someone had told me, when I was 20, that I would let my husband see me ­wearing moustache bleach on my upper lip, I wouldn’t have believed them. But these days he does and he still thinks I’m sexy.

I love the easy sexual intimacy that comes with age and experience.

YOU MAY BE VINTAGE, BUT YOUR CLOTHES MUST NEVER BE

Part of what makes vintage ­clothing so much fun is the ­contrast between the age of the outfit and the age of the person wearing it.

If you are old enough to have lived through some of the eras being ironically resurrected in the name of fashion, then avoid them like the plague.

A 20-year-old boy in Seventies polyester or a 30-year-old woman going a little Mad Men is hot.

A 42-year-old woman wearing a fringed suede waistcoat, a paisley blouse and bell bottoms? It will just look like you’re off to a naff fancy dress party.

Retro irony in general should be left to those who didn’t eat ­Findus Crispy Pancakes and Angel Delight as part of a balanced diet when they were children.

FASHION CAN BE FUN AGAIN

Finally learning what works for you, in all aspects of your life — including relationships, your career and fashion — is one of the ­fantastic things about being a formerly.

When I pick up a fashion ­magazine to see what is in now, it is pretty much always a variation of ­something I have seen and likely worn before. I already know whether or not it works for me.

Shopping is a much calmer, less compulsive experience when you have got experience on your side.

I’m not saying that you need to wear the same thing every year with no variation and no fun.

Just think it through before you throw yourself like a fashion slut at every trend that looks your way.

A WORD OF WARNING

I can clearly remember weaving my way home from a bar in the snow when I was in my early 20s, wearing ­open-toed heels and a mini skirt.

Back then, ­nothing would have stopped me wearing ­something inappropriate for the weather if I knew I looked good in it.

These days you’ll find me sporting one of those goose-down, vertical ­sleeping-bag coats, a hat chosen for its ability to keep my ears warm (even though it flattens my hair) and Uggs in the snow.

I might not look cutting edge, but you know what? I’m warm. And warm trumps sexy any day when you’re a formerly.

But unfortunately when you are formerly hot, it is possible to take the whole comfort-is-queen thing too far. It all starts with a pair of Crocs (quite possibly the most comfortable, but ugliest, shoes ever made).

You buy them because you need something to pop out to the garage in. It’s not a big leap from there to shuttle the children to a playdate in them and pop into the Post Office.

The next day you slip them on, do your chores — and then realise you’re late for a hair appointment.

You reckon you can get away with not changing out of your sweat pants and Crocs just to get your hair highlighted and maybe run to the supermarket.

The following day you decide it is okay to wear your hoodie with a stain … well, it’s not like you are going to the Oscars.

Before you know it you are one of THOSE women. You know, the ones that before you were a ­formerly you used to look at and wonder how she became one of THOSE women.

Eventually you realise that you only go places — Starbucks, the mother and baby group, the ­supermarket — where you can dress like one of THOSE women. That’s when you know you’re in trouble. 

When your clothing ­dictates your activities and not the other way around, you know you have crossed to the dark side — and it’s time to go shopping.

formerlyhot.com

Several hands shoot up and I say: ‘Come on then, Annie. After you, we’ll have Liz and then Becky.’ I smile encouragingly at the children and they grin back, proud to be chosen to read.

You might think there’s nothing wrong with this scenario, but it happened at a co-educational, not a girls’ school. Not a single boy was chosen to read out of my class of 28 pupils simply because not a single boy volunteered.

And it’s not just reading aloud boys show little enthusiasm for – they don’t like to put themselves forward in any subject. In fact, it’s my view that boys have been disenfranchised from education. By secondary school (the age group I teach), I would say the vast majority of them have lost interest all together.

By the time they reach 11 or 12, the idea that they aren’t as good as girls has been reinforced – and the result is lack of confidence and, quite often, a retreat into bad behaviour.

In a study presented this week at the British Educational Research association annual conference, researchers demonstrated that girls as young as four believe they are cleverer, try harder and are better behaved than boys of the same age.

Bonny Hartley, the study’s leader, said: ‘By seven or eight, children of both genders believe boys are less focused, able and successful than girls.’

But who is to blame for this? according to the research, the answer is female teachers.

Admittedly, it focuses on primary school children and 90 per cent of their teachers are female, but we do tend to castigate boys for being ’silly’ and for not ’sitting nicely’ like girls. We tell them off for wanting to play with inappropriate toys like guns, rather than showing them how to play responsibly in a boyish way.

Boys in their early teens like to run about and play-fight. On duty in the playground, I’ve often shouted at boys to ‘Stop running!’ Once – to my shame – I even yelled: ‘Stop kicking that ball so hard. Can’t you just throw it nicely?’

I was met with puzzled frowns. ‘What, like in netball, miss?’ asked young Simon, with a perfectly straight face.

Is it because I’m a female teacher that I treat the boys like this? It’s true that boys’ schools are more likely to encourage male behaviour – healthy competitiveness is encouraged and sports have a higher profile. and I hate to say it, but I believe it’s because there tend to be more male teachers and consequently a more male ethos in these establishments.

And yet my gender cannot shoulder full responsibility – changes within society are the root cause. These days we live in a culture that is risk averse. I tell boys off for running because what if a running child trips and falls? I might have some questions to answer.

A parent might try to sue us. Far better to try to insist that boys ‘calm down’ and ’sit still’ – behave more like girls in other words.

Of course, there’s more to it than that. Our society teaches that the traditionally masculine roles of father, breadwinner and protector are outdated and sexist.

Spiralling numbers of children are being brought up without fathers. Without any positive male role models in their lives, it’s no coincidence vast swathes of young men are unemployable. Thousands of boys leave education every year without a single qualification, content to spend their lives on benefits.

In 2009, 50 per cent of girls went into higher education; only 38 per cent of boys did.

But what worries me most is the recent suggestion that the medical condition attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is an example of excitable behaviour typically associated with boys.

In a culture that no longer tolerates masculinity, excessive boyishness may have been turned into an illness. ADHD is diagnosed in nine times as many boys as girls, and there were 461,000 prescriptions written out for Ritalin, the drug used to treat it, in 2007.

There is no blood test for ADHD – it’s diagnosed through a checklist of symptoms such as fidgeting, an inability to concentrate and running around.

But it’s not just as a teacher I’ve witnessed the suppression of masculine attributes. I only have to look at the books my four-year-old daughter reads to see it’s a message fed to children from a very young age.

There’s Charlie & Lola, the hugely popular series by Lauren Child. Personally, I was dismayed. Lola is a spoilt diva who bosses her wimpy older brother Charlie about.

Charlie’s role in these stories is to patiently explain to Lola why she must eat her peas or why she shouldn’t insist that all his friends eat pink fairy cakes at his birthday party.

Postman Pat, Percy The Park Keeper – they might be men, but they lack any defining male characteristics. These characters are asexual and frankly dull. Percy potters about in his shed, park or kitchen. No catching spies, cracking codes or submarine adventures for these two. They are uninspiring and insipid.

Traditionally male characteristics such as strength, competitiveness and authority are invisible in modern children’s literature because they are not valued in our society.

And I for one don’t want my daughter growing up in a society which tells her she’s in charge because she’s a girl. I don’t want my four-year-old to grow up in a culture that diminishes men and boys.

Crucially, I want her to go to a school that promotes equality and allows for difference.

It’s time to stop the senseless castigation and denigration of boys. Ultimately, it harms us all.

‘Mu-um?’ came the plaintive cry at the other end of the receiver, ‘I don’t suppose you could do any babysitting this weekend?’

‘certainly not,’ I replied briskly.

‘You know I need a month’s notice. I have got my own life, you know’.

The fact that granny has her own life and doesn’t want to be a perpetual unpaid babysitter is something my grown-up children find very hard to accept. But the fact is that while I love all the grandchildren dearly, I am a very reluctant grandmother.

As one of the original baby-boomers, I have always lived my own life and, selfish to the last, I intend to carry on doing so.

I’m now one of the SWOFTIES, it seems – single women over 50 who like clubbing, Twitter and exotic holidays. This means I am far from being the cuddly, all-indulgent granny of popular image, dispensing sweets from the sweet tin on the sideboard as the grandchildren lay waste to my house while I smile fondly at them.

Instead, I – in common with many of my contemporaries – am spending my freedom years eagerly embarking on new adventures.

In fact, my life in my seventh decade is far more liberated, action-packed and exciting than those of my two sons and their partners, weighed down as they are with endless childcare and work worries.

When, in 2000, I wrote in this paper about the unexpected surge of love i felt for my two new grandchildren after never having wanted to be a granny, I didn’t think about what the next decade would bring.

Now there are five (three boys, two girls) very different and increasingly complex little individuals aged between ten and nearly six – and, of course, their demanding fortysomething parents. When the latter ring to ask if I can look after the kids while they flit off to Paris or new york, I tell them i will have to look in my crowded diary first to see whether it’s me who is flitting off to Paris or new york for a romantic jaunt next week instead.

I am single, have been divorced for 20 years and should somebody suitable come along, I’m up for it.

What my sons’ generation have to understand is that we, the grannies of today, are a completely different breed from those of yesteryear.

It’s time to ditch the traditional image of the whitehaired old lady in her rocking chair complaining about her sciatica, and replace it with the modern version: slim, glamorous, fit, on-trend and on the treadmill, the mobile or the computer.

I shop in gap, Zara and Primark; I don’t do pleated tartan skirts and wrinkled stockings. I have moved to a smart new flat with pale- coloured carpets, sofas and curtains.

It’s all immaculate, not particularly child-friendly and i want it to stay like that. So if I do agree to have the grandchildren to stay – if – it’s on my terms.

I don’t want sticky fingers all over my designer décor, cushion fights in the living room, play paints splashed all over the place, or mayhem created in their bedrooms for me to clear up. They will also have to eat up what’s put in front of them, or go without, and early bedtimes for them are a must – after all, I want to be able to sit down with my glass or two of wine rather than reading bedtime stories.

Mind, there is one grandmotherly diktat that they obey instantly. The grandchildren tell me that they are not allowed to watch television at home. I say that in my house the situation is quite the opposite, and they will be FORCED to watch telly while I get on with my writing, Skypeing, emailing and Tweeting.

I admit that I’m not proving to be that good a grandmother. But in this I am not alone.

Novelist and playwright Rosemary Friedman, now in her 80s and still working as hard as ever, writes in her forthcoming memoir Life’s A Joke: ‘I am not interested in being an unpaid nanny, to spend my days making fairy cakes and digging sandcastles second time round. ‘Because I am always at home and seem a natural babysitting target, the guidelines have been firmly established. I am unwilling and reluctant to let my diminishing time and energy be usurped by ten grandchildren.’ I wonder how many more of today’s grannies secretly feel the same?

Jessica Linley, 21, fought off the charms of nearly 60 other English hopefuls at the annual beauty pageant at the Hilton hotel in Birmingham.

The statuesque model – who wants to be a solicitor – will now represent her country at the Miss World contest in China next month.

The 5ft11 blonde – who came third in the competition in 2008 – has been modelling for 2 years after completing three A-levels.

She has also appeared in a sponsoring commercial for Coleen’s Real Women and on MTV’s reality show Totally Calum Best.

Ms Linley beat Jamie Lee Faulkner, also 21, from Rotherham, South Yorkshire, who competed as Miss Champneys, into second place yesterday.

And 18-year-old model and aspiring actress Amy Jackson, representing Liverpool, came third.

Ms Linley is studying law at Nottingham University, where she is also treasurer of the law society and finance officer for the Athletic Union.

Before last night’s final, she said if picked as winner she would take some time off university ’so I could give everything I have’ at the Miss World contest.

‘I want to do the best by everybody and truly make a difference to peoples’ lives,’ the student added.

Judges at the Miss England ceremony included former winner and reality TV star Danielle Lloyd, and Coronation Street actor Ryan Thomas.

Danielle was herself crowned Miss England in 2004 and went on to win the title of Miss Great Britain in 2006 before she was stripped of her crown after having a relationship with judge Teddy Sheringham.

No. Sarah is 43, single and celibate — and determined to remain so. Each night she fastens a wire chain, known as a cilice, around her upper thigh.

The device has sharp prongs that dig into the skin and flesh, though generally it does not draw blood. To most women, it sounds a peculiarly ­masochistic practice.

Yet Sarah says it serves a very different purpose: suppressing her desires and atoning for her sins.

Quite what those sins might be it is hard to imagine. For Sarah is not just good, but very, very good. She doesn’t drink, abhors drugs and has never had sex.

More than that, she is a senior female figure in Opus Dei, one of the most controversial forces in the Roman Catholic church. Portrayed as shadowy and sinister in Dan Brown’s international bestseller The Da Vinci Code, the group has been accused of obsessive secretiveness, elitism, misogyny and criticised for its methods of recruitment.

But it is the ‘mortification of the flesh’ — a ritualistic form of self-harming practised by many Opus Dei members — that has attracted most widespread condemnation.

Now, in a bid to correct false impressions, Sarah has agreed to meet me to discuss what it is that attracts women like her to what seems such an austere and, frankly, painful ­expression of faith. I meet her with fellow Opus Dei ­member Eileen Cole at the group’s £7 million London headquarters on Chelsea Embankment, where Sarah now lives.

First, though, some background. Opus Dei — Latin for ‘Work of God’ —was founded in Spain in 1928 by the Roman Catholic priest St ­Josemaria Escriva. Its doctrine focuses upon the lives of ordinary Catholics, who are neither priests, nuns nor monks yet who believe that everyone should aspire to be a saint.

Today, the organisation claims to have 87,000 members worldwide, about 60 per cent of whom live in Europe — among them, former Labour education minister Ruth Kelly.
Membership is divided into different categories.

About 70 per cent are so-called ‘supernumeraries’ — married men and women with normal careers. They contribute financially to Opus Dei, and though they are not formally required to practise ‘mortification’, many choose to do so.

More committed, though, are ­‘numeraries’ like Sarah and Eileen, who pledge to remain celibate, generally live in special Opus Dei houses scattered around the world, and often work directly for the organisation.

Mortification is part of their daily routine, including use of the cilice and periods of fasting.

So every evening, just before she does the washing up, Eileen, 51, straps her strand of barbed wire round her leg and leaves it there for two whole hours, scratching at her skin and digging into the flesh.

It sounds agony, but she insists it’s ‘less painful than a bikini wax’. And besides, pain is the whole point.

‘It’s an easy way of knowing you’re doing penance,’ says Eileen, who lives in an Opus Dei centre in Ealing, West London. ‘I wear mine above my thigh. If you go swimming, you don’t want to leave a mark from where it has been.

‘To be honest, it’s the fasting I find most difficult.’

Still, many of us would ­struggle to comprehend what on earth drives two intelligent, articulate women like Eileen and Sarah to cause themselves pain on a nightly basis.

Perhaps understandably, given some of its rituals and strictures, the movement is often condemned as a cult. Certainly, Eileen’s parents thought so.

Her mother is now dead and her relationship with her father remains strained. They couldn’t understand how their only daughter, who had never given them a moment’s trouble in her life, left home at 17 to join Opus Dei.

‘My parents hated me joining Opus Dei. I think they’d have been happier if I’d run away and joined the gypsies. They thought I was joining a cult. They were terrified. Absolutely terrified.’

So how did she become involved with the group?

‘I never went to a Roman Catholic school and had boyfriends from the age of 12, because that’s what I thought you had to do,’ she says. ‘You really weren’t cutting the mustard if you didn’t.

‘But I changed to an all-girls school to do my A-levels, and suddenly there was complete freedom. You didn’t have to have a boyfriend or flirt all the time.

‘One of the girls in the sixth form belonged to Opus Dei. I told her I was a Catholic but didn’t know anything about it, so as well as partying all over London, I’d spend Mondays learning the catechism.

‘And I just started talking to people about my faith. That’s what evangelism is — spreading the word.’

Still, the early boyfriends, those ­teenage parties . . . hadn’t she excluded herself from becoming a senior ­official of Opus Dei — a role which demands celibacy?
Again, Eileen forces a smile.

‘I wasn’t promiscuous and I looked forward to a relationship within ­marriage,’ she says. ‘As soon as I knew what it meant to become a numerary, it was like a lump in my stomach.

‘Of course, it’s a huge sacrifice from day one to make the decision. But you’re doing it for the Kingdom of Heaven, which promises to reward you a hundredfold.’

Within months of discovering the movement, Eileen was whisked away by her spiritual mentors to Spain, where she spent three weeks praying and considering her future.

This was part of her training before she could become a full member of Opus Dei.

‘I didn’t speak Spanish, so had a lot of time to think and pray at the ­sanctuary,’ she says. ‘I understood that this was my vessel to come back to God.’
It was here, too, that she began ­wearing the cilice.

‘The mortification helps you to keep your passions under control and channel your energy,’ she explains. Despite Eileen’s devotion to the organisation, others have criticised Opus Dei for its methods of recruitment, which include ‘love bombing’ potential members with affection and praise.

The requirement for recruits to hand over large proportions of their income has also raised concern. (Today, Opus Dei is a huge cash cow for the Roman Catholic church, with tens of millions of pounds-worth of buildings around the world, funded by donations from members.)

Other questions include why Opus Dei members do not normally divulge their involvement, leading to a concern that the organisation is seeking to establish itself as a form of Christian masonry. Membership is growing at the rate of several thousand a year, with women being particularly targeted.

Sarah, it turns out, has been directly tasked with drumming up membership in Britain among young professional and married women. There’s even a glossy Opus Dei magazine ‘for and by young people’, with articles such as ‘six tips for the perfect picnic’ and ‘the internet detox’.

But this is no ordinary from of ‘sisterhood’, and certainly not an easy-going one.

Unmarried male and female ‘numeraries’ are segregated in the Opus Dei houses where many of them live, with only limited contact between the sexes.

There’s also a subgroup of female numeraries known as ‘assistant members’ who perform the cooking, sewing and cleaning and ‘serve’ the men. Men never serve the women.

I find one assistant member at the Chelsea HQ, shut away in a little room with her head bent over a pile of mending. It doesn’t look much like fun to me.
I wonder how an educated woman such as Sarah, who studied physics at Manchester University, can condone such inequality. Again, though, she speaks of ‘God’s plan’.

Sarah was 19 years old and part-way through her degree when she decided to give her life to the ­organisation. Intriguingly, she was also in a ­relationship with her first and only boyfriend.

She maintains, though, that a life devoted to faith was always on the cards. Her mother and her uncle were both Opus Dei members.

‘I’m not going to say I was running after celibacy, but it wasn’t something that was so foreign,’ she says. ‘My uncle was a priest, and many of my aunts were nuns.

‘I’d seen people take the same path from the age of nine or ten.

‘But sex wasn’t something that repulsed or frightened me. ‘If I’d got married, my ideal would have been sex with that guy.

‘When I was little, I always imagined that I was going to get married and have children. ‘But this is the vocation that God gave me. It’s such a gift, and there’s so much love in there.’

Needless to say, Sarah’s smiling. In fact, she’s an enviably serene woman. The oldest of five children (with four younger brothers), she was nine years old when her mother joined Opus Dei.

‘I was a rather intense, reflective child and not very attractive,’ Sarah says. ‘My parents [her father was a newspaper photographer] had a very deep relationship with God and passed that onto us. We used to pray every day as a family — say grace before meals and prayers before bed. We’d pray when my dad lost his job, or I didn’t get the exam results I wanted, or my mother lost a baby.

‘She lost quite a few babies. I just remember she wasn’t well, she got ­better and the baby had gone. My mother always had this sense that God had a plan.

‘Having a boyfriend wasn’t as ­important to me as it was to everyone else. It just wasn’t a ruling passion in my life. I wanted to be a pilot.

‘I had my first boyfriend at 19, and it was when I was starting to go out with him than I began to realise I wanted something else.’ The boyfriend, it turns out, was a fun, pleasant chap but not a Catholic.

‘Yes I kissed him. There was nothing wrong with the relationship, but I was at that stage in my life when I was going over what God wanted me to do.

‘He was very understanding when I reached my decision that it was the end of the relationship. And it was always very clear I wasn’t interested in that experience.’

By ‘that’, she means sex.

‘I didn’t like the promiscuity I saw at university,’ she says. ‘I didn’t want that for me. I didn’t want that life. I rejected it as part of my lifestyle. I didn’t want to be part of it.’

I cannot get over the small matter of the cilice — surely it’s a seismic leap from eschewing promiscuity to self-harming in this way?

Sarah was 20 when she started ­wearing it. ‘The first time you do anything that’s not particularly pleasant, you don’t like it. But over time it’s just something that’s there. The result of doing it is that you should be a much nicer person afterwards.’

Eileen adds: ‘We live in such a ­materialistic, hedonistic society that people can’t understand you’d ­actually make yourself a little uncomfortable to help you be more mindful of God.

‘They’ll understand if you go jogging and pounding the streets — which I think is disgusting — just because you want to be thinner, but they won’t understand this.’

It’s a fair point. After all, which is more peculiar or ‘unnatural’: women who endure the agony of, say, Botox injections or leg-waxing, in order to be beautiful, and those Opus Dei ­devotees who strap on a cilice as a sign of spiritual devotion?

Still, I can’t help feeling that most women would consider it a strange God who requires them to do the ­washing up wearing a chain of barbed wire.

Evidence suggests that adults who keep their brains active by reading, listening to the radio or doing puzzles, can delay the onset of dementia. But these people may then decline more quickly when they do eventually exhibit symptoms.

Dr Robert Wilson, from Rush University Medical Centre in Chicago, said: ‘Our results suggest that the benefit of delaying the initial signs of cognitive decline may come at the cost of more rapid dementia progression later on, but the question is: Why does this happen?’

Mentally stimulating activities may help the brain ‘rewire’ itself to circumvent the effects of dementia, said Dr Wilson.

However, once the disease is diagnosed, damage to the brain is likely to be greater than it would be in someone who was not mentally stimulated.

Mental activity appeared to delay the start of Alzheimer’s and then speed up its progress, while reducing the overall amount of time a person suffers from the disease.

The 12-year-study, published online in the journal Neurology, involved evaluating the mental activity of 1,157 people aged 65 and over, none of whom had dementia at the start.

Mental decline was measured for each point on a “cognitive activity scale” which reflected how much brain stimulation participants had.

Over a period of six years, the rate of decline was reduced by 52 per cent for each scale point in those without cognitive impairment. For individuals diagnosed Alzheimer’s, the average rate of decline per year increased by 42 per cent for each point on the cognitive activity scale.

Dr Susanne Sorensen, head of research at the Alzheimer’s Society, said: ‘The jury is still out on whether pouring over a crossword or enjoying a good book could keep your brain ticking over for longer.

‘This robust study adds considerable weight to the argument that, at least in later life, it could and it may even delay the symptoms of dementia.

‘However although the symptoms are delayed, there is no evidence changes in the brain associated with dementia have been reduced.

‘That the brain is allowed to deteriorate to a larger degree before symptoms like memory loss become apparent could explain why the condition seems to progress more quickly after diagnosis.

‘More research is now needed to establish why this happens and what role mental stimulation may have in keeping people functioning for longer.’

Around 750,000 people in the UK suffer from some form of dementia and more than half have Alzheimer’s disease.

If, on the other hand, you are pushing towards 54, there may be a pleasant surprise just around the corner.

Contrary to popular belief, that is the age when we reach true satisfaction in life.

Indeed, the latest research shows that those in their mid-40s are more unhappy than any other age group.

It suggests that 54 is a golden age at which people are happy and content, rather than stressed and self-conscious.

But they have to endure a long period of disappointment before they reach this magical time.

Researchers have rechristened those aged between 45 and 54 – from the Baby Boom generation – the ‘Baby Gloomers’ because they are so fraught with worries, particularly about money. More than half of this age group defined themselves as unhappy in the poll conducted by the bank First Direct.

When asked why they were feeling so miserable, the most common answer was that they were concerned about their wealth and future prospects.

One of the biggest concerns was that they would never be able to afford to stop working because they either do not have a pension, or would have to rely on a paltry retirement pot.

At this age, the reality of their pension problems start to sink in, and many realise they face having to work until they die – or for much longer than they had planned.

To add to the financial pressure, many are also coping with the massive costs of being stuck in the so-called ’sandwich generation’. This means they are likely to be paying the private school fees for their own children and also footing the care home fees for their ageing parents.

These costs are enormous, with the average price of a year at boarding school for a child over the age of 11 now nearly £24,000 a year.

For a care home, the cost is about £540 a week, where the average person spends four years – resulting in a bill of around £112,000.

The report describes the Baby Gloomers as ‘over-worked and over-stressed’.

Levels of unhappiness peak for the 45-54 age group, and fall for each older age group.

For those aged 55-64, the figure is 36 per cent, and it is a quarter for those aged 65 and over.

The report found people are most likely to be happy if they have made at least four ‘key changes’ to their lives. These include switching to a different career, ending an unhappy relationship, ditching a ‘poisonous’ friendship, travelling for three or more months, and ‘down-shifting’ to achieve a less materialistic lifestyle.

The research also shows what those in the younger age groups have done to improve how happy they feel about their lives.

One in four aged 35 to 44 said they have made new friends or ’severed unhappy relationships’.

Nearly 30 per cent of those aged 16-24 interviewed said they are hoping to lead their own version of ‘The Good Life’.

And more than 40 per cent of those aged 25-34 said they are planning to change career.

Paul Say, of First Direct, said: ‘People are gaining satisfaction in their lives from much more than just money. Even in their late 50s and early 60s, Brits are undertaking a raft of changes to make their lives richer, more colourful and ultimately happier.’

Those considered at ‘high-risk’ of developing a form of the disorder were far more likely to become fixated with a non-social toy when left to their own devices.

Autism is a lifelong developmental disability and part of a spectrum disorder. The main symptoms are difficulties with social interaction, impaired communication skills and unusual thought and behaviour patterns.

Autism is thought to affect one in 100 children in England and those with autistic siblings are 25 times times more likely to develop the condition than those with no family history of autism.

Researchers at the Kennedy Krieger institute and University of Delaware studied 25 six-month-old infants in this ‘high-risk’ group along with 25 of their peers.

The youngsters were placed in a chair with a simple joystick. When they moved it the musical toy was activated and they were given more attention by their caregiver. When actively engaged the children in both groups spent a similar amount of time looking at the person as they did at the toy.

However, the team found that when the babies were not being engaged, those in the high risk group spent far more time gazing at the toy than the caregiver.

Study author Dr Rebecca Landa, said the study showed a subtle early marker for autism.

‘This study shows that there is a particular vulnerability in high-risk siblings at six months of age,’ she said.

‘They are not as socially interactive and engaged on their own as their peers, but still respond typically when engaged by their caregivers, making for a subtle difference that could be easily overlooked by both parents and some professionals.’

The study suggests that like older children, infants at high risk of autism may benefit from frequent exposure to simple cause and effect lessons to aid their development.

‘Babies in both groups of the study learned the multi-stimuli task to the same degree,’ Dr Landa said.

‘The high-risk siblings still have the capacity to learn cause and effect as well as their low-risk peers at this young age.’

Dr Gina Gomez de la Cuesta, Action Research Leader at The National Autistic Society was cautiously optimistic about the findings.

She told the Mail Online: ‘There has been a lot of research which examines a child’s level of joint attention or eye gazing patterns and the potential links to autism.

‘This study of siblings is interesting as it shows more problems in initiating joint attention with others than responding to joint attention.

‘However, until the children reach an age where diagnosis is possible, it is difficult to say how accurately these behaviours can be used to predict a diagnosis of autism.’

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After a wonderful, relaxing summer break you can proudly return to work with a glowing, fresh-air invigorated and sun kissed complexion. The stress lines pre-holiday seem to have melted away and spending lots of time outdoors does wonders to your skin. The problem is keeping that glow and not letting the skin ravaging air-con and work-related stress draw all the life out of your face.

Here are few great tips which should be of help:

Air-con

Air-con can be a nemesis for your skin. It causes it to suffer from loss of moisture and lose that lovely plumpness. Even in an office with little fresh air circulating can have similar effects.

- Keep some eye cream in your desk drawer. The mixture of staring at computer screens all day and the dehydrating air-con really puts the strain around the delicate eye area. Dabbing a few drops around your eyes is inoffensive to your colleagues near you, so don’t worry about looking too vain.  Try Neal’s Yard Rehydrating Rose Eye Cream (£22).

- To prepare your skin for a day in the office, equip it with a good nourishing and protecting moisturiser. It seems obvious but can sometimes be overlooked. Using one packed with natural ingredients and a good SPF is essential for protecting and nurturing. A great one I have just discovered is Origins’ Brighter by Nature with SPF 35 (£32).

- Liz Earle does the most amazing 40 seconds to two minutes face treatment mask with aloe vera and witch hazel. It is like a supercharged fast working face pack which gives your skin extra plumpness ready for the day in the office. Just pop it on after you have washed your face and perhaps whilst you do your teeth and then wash it off. I use it all the time and it very quickly brings life back into the skin. Liz Earle Brightening Treatment Mask (£12.75).

- The most obvious but utterly utterly essential air-con buster is water. Drinking lots of it and regularly will ensure parched skin is kept at bay. Diet Coke or tea is no substitute.

Stress

There is very little one can say about avoiding stress at work. I would be in world demand if I had the secret to eradicating it. But I can give you a few ideas to consider which may help keep you looking less browbeaten.

- Try lavender hand cream. We all know that lavender has calming properties but using a lightly scented hand cream won’t stink out the office. What’s also great about a hand cream is that the soothing application acts as mini massage. Really massaging your hands to apply the cream and taking big deep breaths allows a few moments of calm to ease some tension. Try L’Occitane lavender hand cream (£12.50).

- An old favourite for stress relief is Bach’s Rescue Remedy, a natural remedy with proven calming effects. It comes in all sorts of guises; from a mouth spray, a tincture or pastilles, so you can be discreet about how you ingest it. It contains the following flower essences: Rock Rose for terror and panic, Impatiens for irritation and impatience, Clematis for inattentiveness, Star of Bethlehem for shock and Cherry Plum for irrational thoughts (www.rescueremedy.com).

- And finally, the best antidote to stress and radiant looking skin… a good nights sleep. No cream or pill can replicate its amazing benefits.