I would have spat out my tea at a survey revealing the nation thinks you start “slowing down” in your mid-40s, but I didn’t have time to make one before writing this.

In between taking the children to school, putting on the second load of washing of the day, taking delivery of Christmas presents and writing an analysis of the Duchess of Sussex’s court victory (all before 11am), I haven’t yet had a chance to put the kettle on.

So I can sympathise with the survey respondents who complained that they only get seven-and-a-half hours to themselves every week – the equivalent of an hour a day. But what on Earth are people thinking if they truly believe life gets easier at 43? 

The poll of 2,000 found that 43 is the age most Britons believe they will “slow down” after a fast-paced existence for 25 years.

Who are they kidding? I’m 43 and I don’t think I’ve ever worked harder in my life.

I had this fantasy that once I hit 40, and the children were at the stage where I no longer need to carry baby wipes, I’d be cruising towards retirement. Less work, more pay was the ambition. 

But I am now starting to wonder if I will ever retire at all. I’ve just visited the Government website to work out my state pension age and it is 68. I’m going to be working until the summer of 2046 at the very earliest. That’s 25 years away. To put it into context, Boris Johnson will be 82 by the time I mothball my notebook and pen. 

It therefore follows that our 40s have no choice but to be the decade when we ramp it up, not take it down a gear. We’ve done the nitty-gritty of baby care. Now is the time to refocus on our careers.

Only the theory is easier than the practice. I run around in high heels, filing copy from train station platforms while rushing to collect the kids from school (they’re 13, 11 and eight). I can’t complain, of course – I chose this life – but I know I can’t slow down; in another 20 years, I’ll be too old and ugly to go on the telly. And I’ll have young whipper snappers at my heels, breaking all the royal exclusives while I’m bleating on about being at the Lindo Wing for Prince George’s birth “before you were even born”.

No. I have got to make hay while the sun shines (and gives me wrinkles). Botox, anyone? Thank you, I’ll have my entire face frozen in time, please. 

It is a cruel decade because, as well being the period when you feel the most pressure to “make it”, your 40s also tend to coincide with midlife crises, the menopause and your children taking school exams.

Maritally, it is the time when relationships, under the dual strain of work and domestic life, either sink or swim. Little wonder, then, that in 2019, the average age at the time of the divorce was 47.7 years old for men and 47 for women. 

While husbands start chasing younger women and taking up cycling in some desperate attempt to cling on to their dwindling testosterone supplies, wives stop producing as much oestrogen and progesterone. What a callous hand Mother Nature plays.

Just as we are finally breaking through the glass ceiling – truly making a name for ourselves after decades of grafting – women are suddenly inflicted with hot sweats, brain fog and a lack of libido.  

So no, life doesn’t get easier in your mid-40s – it actually gets a whole lot more complicated. And our ability to deal with that very delicate decade actually goes on to dictate the rest of our lives. It is not even accurate to say it is when life begins. It is, instead, a bit like a thermometer reaching 45 degrees. Life heats up considerably in your 40s – good luck to anyone who expects otherwise.