I was about 6’ at 15 and went on to grow another inch! People always assume you’re delighted to be tall, but in my experience it can take time to grow into your height. I was definitely a tall introvert when I was young, so I was always trying to disguise myself with flat shoes and lots of black.

OK, my top tall tips… posture, posture, posture. I know, you don’t want to hear this, especially if your Mum’s been nagging since you were small, but tall people tend to slouch and if, like me, you’ve got boobs, you might be tempted to slouch even more. Ballet or yoga are definitely the answer. I did a yoga class every week for two years in my 20s and it changed my back completely. Now people compliment me on my posture! Sitting up straight comes naturally (shock!) I definitely think it looks better. Walking tall is the way to go, even if you are a foot taller than everyone else around.

If you are a tall person who loves heels: great, fantastic, go for it! Personally, I don’t really need the extra two inches. I feel freakish. I bump my head on doorways. I like one inch at the most. But my flat shoes must be pointy, this looks best on big feet.

Above the knee skirts and tight trousers, yes, I like. If you have 36 inches of leg, you might as well flaunt it. I never wear long dresses, because I look like a column. Even long, for me, ends well above the ankle.

Don’t get me started on finding trousers long enough. Only really Top Shop Tall and Long Tall Sally do them long enough. Most men’s trousers are sold un-hemmed and I am kind of outraged that this can’t be done for women’s trousers too. In fact, men’s jackets and men’s shirts often come in short, regular and long. Why not ours?!

I do use an alterations service to make jacket and coat sleeves long enough and I buy blouses with men’s style double cuffs and wear them unfolded, a good way to get a long enough sleeve.

My favourite tall shops not yet mentioned: Mango clothes are long enough in the sleeve and the body, Hobbs have tiny clothes but a great selection of size 8 and 9 shoes, I also like Uniqlo and Banana Republic. Then there are posh clothes. It does sadly seem to be that the bigger the price tag, the longer things are.

Now just a little advice on shorter men… when I first set eyes on my husband what went through my mind was: ‘cute but too short’ so I risked ruling him out – which would have been a very bad thing! If he stands very, very straight, he’s almost 5’10” but he loves the fact that I’m taller than him, so I don’t slouch, stand on one hip, lean sideways or try to appear smaller in his company.

Stand tall and learn to love your height!

It was beautiful down there: dazzlingly blue and turquoise seas, big waves, long, sandy, deserted beaches. It really is a very special place.

Being brave or foolhardy, I’m not sure which, we booked in for a family surfing lesson. First of all, this involved wetsuits, for everyone. The four of us looked like – remember that kids’ film about the family of superheroes, The Incredibles? Yes that was us, except we were armed with a huge yellow surfboard or giant banana.

It turns out that surfing is quite scary (to begin with, especially if you’re convinced your 6 yr old is about to drown) not to mention exhausting. Muscles I’d never felt before were left aching, but we all worked very hard for our gorgeous surf instructor, yes him of the sea-bleached, tousled hair, a mahogany sea-tan, rippling surfer muscles… I’m sorry, I noticed, I’m only human.

When he referred to my not quite so rippling husband as ‘The Big Fella’ I had to giggle, but I wasn’t laughing quite so hard when he referred to me as: ‘Mum’ !!!! Oh. My. God. That is crossing a line. I’ve clearly got to the age where handsome young men start thinking of me as ‘Mum’. This is deeply, deeply tragic. And I have to say, I didn’t think I was wearing my wetsuit so badly. All that treadmill running had paid off slightly.

I didn’t manage to stand up on my board, but I did do a lot of body boarding which was brilliant. On the beach there were loads of properly old ladies (ie older than me) in suits with board, just grinning from ear to ear. Because it is brilliant fun. This is clearly the secret to a British seaside summer, you’ve got to get in and get wet. Never mind the weather!

Meanwhile, while I was eating pasties and ice cream on Sennen beach near Land’s End, my glamorous sister-in-law was on holiday in New York. Yes, she’s newly single, she’s still child-free, so she decided to book herself a glam singleton holiday to NYC.

Obviously, with the dollar on the skids, everything seemed incredibly good value and she had a very nice little shopping time to herself. Discount shoes, an adorable little Coach handbag and so on.

However, she did report back on a really quite terrifying trend. Every one in NYC carries a beautiful bag, OK, we expected that. In fact, we’d have been shocked if they didn’t, but, here is the but… despite the 35 degree heat, despite the bags and the manicured hands and the incredible designer clothes (smart, smart Prada skirts, nipped in blouses, groomed hair) guess what lots and lots of women were wearing on their feet? High Jimmys or Manolos, I hear you answer and I know, I’d have guessed the same. But no, apparently the coloured, patterned, mid-height Wellington seems to be the footwear of choice!!!! Bizarre!! Is it comfortable to walk about NY in mid-July in calf height wellies? Is it a status statement: I have a really big garden/ allotment/ home in the countryside. Well, whatever the reason… they’re definitely not wearing calf-length wellies for style.

I asked if she at least had a pic for me to post, but she said every time she saw one of these wellie-wearers walk past, she was so shocked, so stopped in her tracks by the sight that she never got it together to take a snap.

Being stared at in disapproval for your fashion faux pas reminds me of being in Paris, aged 19, inter-railing. I was probably wearing a t-shirt, grubby shorts and possibly even hiking boots. This chic Parisisan woman, walked towards me, in the typical Paris outfit of slick, skinny black, smooth hair, sunglasses, and just gave me this look. Her eyes travelled right up and down me and then her face registered this pinched look of horror – making me feel about two inches high.

The last time I was in the south of France, I thought the French women looked a bit frumpy to be honest. All that striped blue and white top business. I mean, it’s quite cute when you’re under ten as holiday wear, but come on!

But still the film was fabulous, was it not? I’ve seen it twice and I went to a SATC party, so I think that makes me a groupie.

I’ve loved SATC since series one when Miranda wore Gap, Carrie wore second hand and they did those random street polls about finding love in New York.

At the time (1998) I’d just had my first baby so I was shopping in Mothercare and SATC was pure escapism. Could it have been less like my life? No. I was in. I was married. I was stone cold sober, and not getting a lot of action in the small hours, apart from nappy changing.

But that was the fun of it. I still believe the most devoted SATC fans are happily married, tracksuit-wearing mums, who just want a weekly dose of how the other half lives. To remind us why we’re just fine where we are, thanks.

The best things about the series:

* The friendships. You believe that these women are there for the thick and thin, more like family than friends. Everyone needs friends like this.

* The clothes, of course. According to SATC, when you’re a grown up you deserve to spend a little bit more on yourself. Although the great big Prada hairy handbags may have been a shopping spree too far…

* The sex info, thank you very much. Everything I know about sex I’ve learned from Samantha.

* The girl power! Are the foursome not proof that women in their 40s and 50s are interesting, witty and sexy with a host of opportunities and choices open to them? And we can buy our own diamonds and apartments, thank you very much. I never liked that whole Mr Big: ‘I’ve got it covered, baby.’

* The fun! Let’s face it, for previous generations of women, life didn’t look so good after the wedding day. From then on, you were consigned to childcare, housework, elasticated waistbands and frumpy shoes. In SATC, there is no settling! These girls want the best shoes, the best clothes and the best men. And they’re not going to let their waistlines or bikini lines go either. It’s impossible not to want to cheer them on from the sidelines!

Obviously, like Carrie Bradshaw, I’m a ‘writerrrr’ but to my husband’s distress, I do not sit at my laptop in evening gowns or lingerie. I’ve promised him I will do that, just as soon as he drives around town in his own personal chauffeur driven limousine.

Some of my SATC inspired purchases over the years: the corset top, pointy red boots, fake flower and impressive sparkly ring.

Everyone I know left the film lusting after something, for me it was the teensy diamond studs in Carrie’s ears (thank you Claire’s Accessories).

I did love that Carrie looked truly rubbish after the break-up and did Bad Things to her Hair. (Been there, done that!) Plus she wore a few duff outfits as well, to prove that fashionistas take risks and can’t always get it right: I mean, grey thermals under a silk nightie… what was that about?!!