Holiday Crone

I have just come back from Bodenville-by-the-Sea http://www.sandsresort.co.uk/index.html where every child is called Molly, Milly, Simeon, Casper, Rufus, Obi-wan Kinobe etc. and the mummies are like little tiny bundles of brown twigs wrapped in cloth (I heard you can get two mums for a lb at Sands!!!).
Crones can swim here
Once you get past the reverse-snobbery it's actually a very nice place to stay, for a Crone. The swimming pool is small and not busy; the twig mums never seem to swim (perhaps they are frightened of being sucked up the drainy thing?) so you are free to enjoy looking your best amongst the plumper mums and unfit dads. Luxury!
Walking on the beach, thinking like a bitch
For the full "Look at me, I am Kate Moss" effect, I heartily recommend taking a walk down to Porth Beach. Spend some time amongst the middle-class yummy mummies by all means, but for maximum Crone satisfaction park your towel near the cheap end, where you can wallow in the thought that you may be old and a bit saggy at the seams these days, but at least you Had It All when you were in your 20s.
Sigh contentedly as another frighteningly tattooed Trace or Sarn clumps past you in the tiniest string bikini to go and pee in the sea. Stretch out sexily as you compete with amazing Back Tits that look like they could fill a 44D bra. Smile smugly into your book as the fuckwit couple who were throwing chips to the seagulls are suddenly attacked by a fleet of the aggressive bird bastards.
And when the bursts of abrupt laugh start getting to you, like the rat-a-tat-tat of a Sten gun in the trenches, and you feel your children have had enough second-hand smoke for the day, wend your way slowly back up the cliff top to the smug coolness of Bodenville for an overpriced cocktail or three.
The Crone has returned refreshed, re-invigorated and ready for anything.