Researchers at Leicester University have shown in a ground-breaking scientific report that those of us who walk at a brisk pace, particularly in middle life, will be the equivalent of 16 years younger than a slow walker. | M.A. Cañellas

I feel I’ve been vindicated. Researchers at Leicester University have shown in a ground-breaking scientific report that those of us who walk at a brisk pace, particularly in middle life, will be the equivalent of 16 years younger than a slow walker.

For years I have walked at a break-neck speed which infuriates family and friends who’d rather take life at a more leisurely pace but I’ve always felt the need to get moving in order to get things done. When I worked fulltime in London two decades ago, I was forever asking London Transport contacts to create fast and slow lanes on escalators and around stations. And why not pavements too?

Sounds mad? Not really. Those who want to potter or for whatever reason, cannot walk fast, would probably much rather not have impatient commuters breathing down their necks. It would stop bottlenecks at the height of the commuter rush hour too.

When my sister visits and we go for coffee or a walk, she demands to know if it’s going to be the usual race or that we can walk at a civilised pace. I really do try to curb the vice and having a husband who has always strolled serenely, I have learnt to pace myself when necessary.

Now as happy tourists dawdle along our main pedestrianised street, Carrer Sa Lluna in Soller, with all the time in the world, I find myself squeezing past to try to make a shop before it closes for lunch. The sun might be shining but for many of us poor mutts, life and work carries on and deadlines loom.

According to the new research, a chromosome known as the telomere is responsible for detecting our biological age according to its length. Those who have a longer telomere are more likely to have a younger body and speed of walking is a major factor.

My husband groaned when I jubilantly showed him the report and warned me that he had no intention of changing his regal gait. I’d just have to walk three paces in front.

Six of the best!

The story of hapless tourist, Jason Walker, has been recently splashed all over the media. Mr Walker chose an all-inclusive holiday in Spain and was shocked and aggrieved to discover that he was only allowed to drink six alcoholic drinks per day as part of the plan. Three of these had to be consumed with lunch and the remaining three at dinner time.

Mr Walker was expecting to be able to drink what he liked when he liked and felt that this was sly and dishonest marketing. Much as I cannot imagine drinking six alcoholic drinks a day, I do think Mr Walker has a point.

If a hotel claims to be all-inclusive then it needs to admit upfront on its marketing material and website that it will place a limit on certain items. I know Mr Walker is correct because I review hotels. This year I examined several sites and could not find information about what was included in that all-inclusive price unless I searched in the small print. This is sly marketing and is wrong. I don’t like the idea of unlimited drinks being served in hotels as it leads to unruly behaviour, fights, accidents and confrontations but that aside, hotels have got to make a virtue of the policy and spell it out clearly to the consumer. The word all-inclusive should mean just that, otherwise it should be changed to almost-all-inclusive. I imagine that Mr Walker’s liver will thank him for a little respite but the hotel industry needs to do better in being transparent about its costs.

I don’t like Mondays

It’s a ridiculous thing but I’ve always rather loathed Monday mornings and I imagine that I’m not alone. It comes of having spent years of commuting on tubes, buses and trains and dreading the alarm going off early on a Monday after a relaxing weekend. I now live in an earthly paradise but that doesn’t mean I get to lie in and admire the views of the Tramuntanas from my bedroom window. Quite the opposite. These days I don’t need an alarm as the peahen and the cockerels give me a rude awakening around five o’clock, if I’m lucky. I doze off until the second wave of animals start screeching for attention and then leap out of bed. Deadlines loom large every day and sometimes it’s so tempting to flee the desk and bask in the glorious sunshine outside but that would be fatal. I’d find every excuse in the book to play outside with the menagerie in nature.

To stop my Monday fixation, I now make it one of my book writing days rather than a client ‘work’ day and that has made it so much more fun. I get up in the morning in a state of delight at the thought of having a whole day of writing without distraction or interruption. Clients are well briefed on this new regime, and until the book is done, that is how it shall remain.