I RECENTLY SENT out a message to family and close friends telling them I have decided to action a Crone Club. No membership fees required, just weekly proof that we are all leaning into our Crone Era.

On that particular day, the back of 2026 had barely been broken, and already it was proving to be a long year. The weather and the fragile state of the world conspired in a dual effort to raise my hackles, which resulted in me having several short fuse moments.

One was in a supermarket and was trolley-related. I watched, OK, I judged, as another shopper left an empty (convenience) trolley in the car space beside them before getting into their car and driving away.

The other infractions were back-to-back driving-related infractions – a motorist overtaking on a single white line into oncoming traffic, and someone else neglecting to yield on a flat roundabout.

Endlessly sick of it all, and the ensuing thumbs up of approval from others bearing witness to me asking drivers parked in the yellow box to please move, I decided I was going to start the above mentioned Crone Club.

Newsflash! Apparently, several of my fellow hags have been embracing their inner Crone for ages now. Emboldened, I rolled up my cloak sleeves, adjusted my pointy hat and hunkered down to address any pushback that might be headed my way.

For the uninitiated, the mother, the maiden and the crone symbolise the three stages in a woman’s life. All three embody innocence, fertility and wisdom, respectively. The maiden, a poster child for youth, someone unburdened with responsibilities and life’s challenges.

Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo

The mother........

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