If there are any typos or if this piece lacks in clarity you can blame me. I am trying to type my thoughts through the deafening sound of my fertility alarm bells. Hang on, I'm just going to blithely hit the snooze button. SHH BIOLOGY!

Of course 15 or so years from now I will be feeling quite the silly one. Not getting pregnant by boy or baster now, whilst my ovaries are bountiful, my uterus plush, life unstable and bank balance empty. Presenter and now official face of Regret-filled Older Mothers Kate Garraway knows this feeling all too well.

Whenever there is an announcement of a well loved or well known book (very different beasts, we all know War and Peace - we all have vague plans to totally read it, but we don't love it) is being made into a film there is always cynicism and excitement. Throw into the mix 'oh yeah and it is going to be needlessly in 3D' and you're courting full blown panic. The Great Gatsby was the most recent of these books to be realised by Baz Luhman. In 3D. With Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire and Carey Mulligan cast in place of what the book had dredged up from your imagination while reading F. Scott. Fitzgerald's book.

It is telling that few previews and news stories about the film have gone without mention of Fitzgerald's wife, Zelda Fitzgerald. He called her the the 'first American flapper' and used her as proof of his expertise on this new trend, which he was frequently quizzed about - instead of any actual flappers being asked about their lifestyle. Because what would they know?

Today is the 2nd of May which marks 477 years since Anne Boleyn - the sexy but not as sexy as Katherine Howard in the films wife - was arrested and imprisoned on the charges of incest, adultery and treason. We all know Anne Boleyn as the young woman who was more than a pair of breasts to Tudor England and had more up her sleeve than most (sorry, first and last joke about the alleged extra boob and finger)of her rivals for Henry VIII's affections. But we don't tend to think of this woman who bore unto us Elizabeth I, icon to all redheaded girls or becavitied history buff as much more than temporary wife. You might say she set the trend for marrying Henry (Catherine of Aragon did it before it was cool) but what else?

The gender pay gap (currently - in today's money if you will - women earn 14 percent less on average than men doing the same job) is still hounding us and using examples that can best be described as exceptions to the rule; Margaret Thatcher, Hillary Rodham Clinton, Sheryl Sandberg they remain that. Exceptions to the rule. Women who didn't just rise to the top, but weren't afraid to do so.

The trick is, it seems, is to simply ask. Have you tried asking? See how well that went for little Oliver Twist. Please sir, can I have some more? No, that's not the way we are told. You don't ask, you see it, want it, take it. Smash and grab. Rude.

Even if it seems a majority of women have issues with simply asking or taking, maybe even talking, it doesn't explain a pay gap of 14 percent. Surely. Speaking on Woman' s Hour to promote her new book Be Awesome Hadley Freeman commented that Britain's women were the worst (or the best? Not sure) for self deprecation. We don't just fail to put ourselves forward we put ourselves down.

In these Gove-riddled times of education it would be nice to think the teachers unions were able to discuss teaching. Maybe reminisce about the days when chalk boards were chalk boards. Instead the NUT has to concentrate on the continuing problem of teenage girls continuing to be young, easily influenced and currently gyrating to the continued pornified culture: "Growing up in a world where it is normal for women's bodies to be seen as sex objects affects the way that girls in our schools grow to view themselves and their place in society."

T'was ever freakin' thus. And yet, and yetgreat novels  have been turned out by those constrained by both corsets and society. Women's rights were vindicated on paper before an untimely death in childbirth and today girls with Playboy bunnies on their pencil cases outstrip (HAH unintentional) boys in school studies.

A while ago I saw a documentary (though the term is used loosely in this context) about women who don't just dress in vintage clothing but extend their vintage lifestyle beyond the wardrobe. Time Warp Wives followed the lives of a couple who tried to live as much in the 1930s as possible (though cheated with the odd concealed electric appliance in the kitchen) when not at work and a young woman who liked to dress in a 1940s style and eat at the table the ol' fashioned way. There was one woman who had entrenched herself so much in the 1950s lifestyle she confessed to not knowing Tony Blair was no longer Prime Minister.

This proud housewife baked from scratch and scrubbed the floors like the Swiffer* mop hadn't been invented. It appeared her only companions were the residents of an old people's home All the women featured liked the idea of living in simpler times – though why you'd pick the Second World War as your nostalgia era was never quite explained. Or examined. It just wasn't that kind of documentary. They cited the old days when people didn't get divorced and were generally happy with their lot.

It's Lent. In spite of attending Catholic schools, which seem to be quite hot on it, since the age of 7 I have never done anything for Lent. My own Baptist church never seemed to get too het up about it either. So it wasn't until last year I acknowledged and did something for the 40 days run up to the Easter weekend.

What did I do? I helped start up the Brighton Feminist Collective's project 40 Days of Treats, a counter action to 40 Days for Life prayer vigils. Inspired by a project going on elsewhere in the country, we decided we wanted to do something similarly supportive that wouldn't cause a ruckus. It involved the collective delivered flowers, cakes and cards to the staff at our local Bpas clinic to show our appreciation as the 40 Days of Prayer and Abort 67 protested outside. It was peaceful. Apart from the time I started a ruckus. Well, I didn't start it. I and a plastic foetus were somehow at the centre of a tiny ruckus. A ruckuslette, if you will, as I delivered cake.

You know it, I know it, Annie Lennox knows it: 'Behind every great man there had to be a great woman.' So it should come as no surprise that David Cameron would like to get in on this act and tell us his wife Samantha Cameron has been taking time out from London Fashion Week to inform him he needs more women in his cabinet.

Speaking at Unilever's headquarters in Mumbai in response to the question of Britain having anything to teach India about opening up opportunities to women. “If you look at politics in Britain, there aren't nearly enough women around the Cabinet table.” Cameron conjured up the image of he and Sam in the marital bed. Morcambe and Wise style. Sam looking up from her iPad and saying: 'Babe,* I think you need more girlies on the cab' and David nodding in acknowledgement saying: 'Babe, I might tweet that. Night.'

“Oh no not I, I will survive. For as long as I know how to breathe I know I’ll stay alive.” A Disco Queen, The Seventies.

“I have never had an impulse to go to the altar. I am a difficult person to lead.” Greta Garbo.

WARNING: These words have been uttered by a woman who, two days ago, received a pity Valentine's card from her dad. The annual pity Valentine's card she receives from her dad. But this year, there was another card. One she didn't get every year. She tore into it eagerly. Hopeful. It was another pity valentine's card from her dad, impersonating the cat.

In case you haven’t seen the lashings of menstruation red everywhere, it's the day of love. The day of romance. The day that spaghetti strands wait for their whole pasta lives. Valentine's Day. So I’m taking time out of my busy, unmarried day of shouting along to prog-rock and spilling everything I eat and drink down myself to tell you this: there were plenty-a-fantastic woman who lived her life solo. Really.

There has always been a fondness for looking back with rose-tinted spectacles. The Victorians revered the valour of medieval knights and their chaste, patient maidens. In turn, the Victorians are occasionally remarked upon for their high values. The 1950s is occasionally referred to in rather glorious terms when everyone was polite and front doors went unlocked.

This is, of course, never the full story. Else Call the Midwife would be considered a documentary of the golden age of solving any difficulties with an It’ll All Come Right in the End ethos in the 1950s. Which never happened.  As far as I can tell anyway. Wayward Sister Monica Joan seems to have the most balanced view out of the whole cast with her mystical quotes and mysteriously insightful comments.