Cracks and lines are just a sign of a life well lived

He's just staring at the walls, a haunted look upon his face.

And before you say anything, it's not because he's heard the microwave 'ping' at the sound of yet another ready meal. He loves Uncle Ben as much as the next man.

He's staring at the cracks. The cracks appearing in our walls.

You see, we've just moved into a new house. I say a new house but, in fact, it's a very old house – more than 100 years old.

Having always lived in an old house, I know these hairline cracks raise no more concern than a family feud on 'Enders. They're all part of our home's 'character'; chances are we paid a premium for those cracks. Phil, Kirsty, Sarah Beeny et al would be going barmy for these cracks.

He, on the other hand, has always lived in new houses where the walls were as smooth as Selena Gomez's forehead.

But it got me thinking, are his anxieties a reflection of society's ever-growing obsession with youth and perfection?

Take Madonna's face, for example. Now, she's practically older than our house yet all her tell-tale lines and wrinkles have been ironed out and pumped full of Kabbalah knows what. Her cheeks looks so bouncy you could hold a kid's birthday party on 'em.

Kylie, Amanda Holden, Nicole Kidman, they're all at it. Kiddies, cancer, careers, heartbreak. . . yet their faces are smoother than a band of babies auditioning for a Pampers advert.

My angst goes up a notch when I visit the fruit and veg aisle of the supermarket where the perfect peaches, polished peppers and flawless figs smile at me smugly from their shelf. No room for withered watercress here.

But what's wrong with a blemished banana, really? Does it not prove that it's seen more of life than the inside of a greenhouse? After all, when I peel back the skin of my banana I like to think it's lived a full and fruity life before ending up on top of my Bran Flakes.

Surely, that's what lines, wrinkles and blemishes tell us – that a life has been well lived. A life full of love and laughter and tears, sometimes.

But when all's said and done maybe my main concern is how long the other half will put up with the ever-deepening crevices in my face.

I guess I'll just have prevent him from standing too close – 11 years together so it shouldn't be too hard.

Besides, he's far too busy looking at those walls.

Pass the botox.

One last thing

So, we're in the new house and it couldn't be nicer – it really is the perfect surburban idyll.

But one thing's concerning me – one thing which wasn't mentioned on the estate agent's particulars.

Forget good schools, nice neighbours, proximity to the park, it's June already and I haven't heard the chimes of an ice cream van.

As a bit of a whippy fanatic this really is a deal breaker.

In our mad scramble up the property ladder we've somehow managed to move into a street only frequented by the Ocado van – purveyors of fairtrade, organic frozen yogurt, but not the synthetic stuff I so crave.

So it appears while I don't have 99 problems, the lack of 99s is one.