I am a Cancerian – supposedly the most maternal sign of the zodiac. I like the idea of astrology and agree that some of the traits do fit my vision of me: moody and emotional, a hard shell with a soft centre, a home lover. However, the maternal one leaves me cold.
I am not a mother and I have never wanted children. Perhaps that’s a white lie: when I was small I had a vague idea I would have a mini-me when I grew up – a small blonde-haired daughter who would adore me. But that wasn’t a phase that lasted long: I was a tomboy with no time for dolls.
Many of my friends have children. I am the godmother to one of them. When my friend told me that it meant if anything happened to her, I would have to take over the child, I blanched and almost backed out. Lucky, she is fit and well and the child will soon be old enough to stand on its own two feet.
My mother thinks I’m selfish for not wanting children. She says: “Who will look after you when you’re old?” I tell her I’ll look after myself, thank you, and it would be selfish to have a child simply to act as a carer. Knowing my luck, it would probably cart me off to a granny farm as soon as I started to dribble.
I am actually a lot better at relating to children than I used to be. In fact, I can deal very well with them by the time they reach nine or ten and can hold a conversation. However, I cannot cope with the screaming, tantruming, sick and smelly side of things.
I probably don’t have long to change my mind (which people always tell me I will), and the ticking clock is conspicuous by its absence. I shall stick to my cats and my horse, I think.