A date with Sarah-Kate; Kate’s home truths

A girly weekend is just the tonic for Sarah-Kate

Much as I love my Ginger, he refuses to talk about leg waxing or face creams, so every now and then, I disappear for a girls’ weekend away – and goodness me, they are good for the soul.

Of course, you can have girls’ weekends at home, but I think it’s the being away from your usual routine that helps to make them kind of magical.

No-one is doing the normal school run, the late nights at the computer, the lashings of laundry, the shopping, the cleaning, the weekend sports ...

A good girls’ weekend away is like one big sigh of relief as you flop into a squashy sofa with a glass of wine, especially if you actually are flopping into a sofa with a glass of wine.

Much of the conversation on my girls’ weekends tends to be about food. When we should eat it and where, and what it will involve. Actually, the Ginger is quite keen to talk about that too, but not at length, while I can spin a single breakfast plan out for at least an hour if I add talking about the Kardashians into the equation.

In fact, my idea of heaven is lounging in my PJs with my hair undone and not a lick of make-up, drinking cups of tea, and plotting out lunches and dinners with a few little somethings in between.

Some gal pals and I did this over a recent wintry weekend during which we also managed to squeeze in solving the problems of the world but also the problems of each other.

Nothing that we couldn’t have done at home with our loved ones, but sometimes it’s getting a different perspective that makes all the difference. That and having time to gently unravel things and thrash them out.

And, you know, I really think time is the other blissful part of the equation. When you can stay in your jammies till lunchtime chewing the fat (and maybe some muffins), something delicious just happens.

All of a sudden, you’re off on a tangent and next thing you’re wetting yourselves over a silly joke or a photo on someone’s phone where it looks like you all share the same arm.

Or you’re crying over a shared remembered sadness or a secret fear. These things don’t have a chance to make it to the surface when you’re doing the usual rat run.

And they’re the things that return you from your girls’ weekend feeling full of the joys of life, fresh-faced (hopefully thanks to a facial) and ready to take on the world.

I’m already planning my next getaway, inspired by going to see the amazing singer Joan Armatrading, whom I realised I last saw when I was 16. And if that makes me old, imagine what it makes her. But she hasn’t lost any of her spark – in fact, I think she has even more – and it got me thinking about my fellow 16-year-old schoolgirls who saw her with me way back when.

So now we’re having a get-together. Will we get out of our jammies even once? I hope not.