But this night we were, a few bottles of wine and an open fire in, talking about things that, as 50- and 60-something year old people, resonated with us and our vast experience of the world.

Things we thought were important when we were the age that the young things, who think things like Taylor Swift and climate change are important, are now.

Other people started talking about the Cold War, about AIDS, about assassination attempts and how Gen X is ignored these days, despite the fact we run the world.

I kept quiet. My world view has always been kind of narrow. Not something I should be particularly proud of I know. I'd like to lay that at the feet of growing up in a small town in a small circle where, if I'm honest, things kind of came, not easily, but they just came. We didn't really question too much. Life was okay.

My life was never affected by anything like this at all, I don't think. I'm sure it was. How ridiculous is that first statement.

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I've always been rather plain, but I had smarts and a sense of humour and was kind and generous, a good friend, and that got me through all sorts of things relatively intact. It was a very small world.

Maybe I shouldn't have been so naive. Look where it's got me.

When I started thinking about the issue which stuck with me most from those times, I knew what it was immediately.

It seems so obscure, and that's not really the right word, maybe indulgent, to admit it. Because it's one that still affects me.

I still can't get over those Romanian babies that were tucked away in orphanages by the communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu. Children starved of attention, affection and love.

Ceausescu banned abortion for women with fewer than four children, lowered the legal marriage to 15, banned the contraceptive pill and condoms, and subjected women to regular gynaecological exams at work to check for pregnancy. At work!

It's estimated that roughly half a million children were relinquished during his 24-year reign.

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You might wonder what relevance all of that has to me now.

It seems ridiculous that I can even compare my life to the lives these babies had. (And the lives they are having as adults.)

But there are days where I just crave the touch of another human being. It's a real physical reaction. An ache.

It's been a long 10-ish years since I've had the regular physical touch of a partner. Sex is sometimes just that. (And rare.)

But physical intimacy is different. I want someone to just hold me. To hold my hand on a walk, or at the movies. To press his leg against mine at dinner. Someone who doesn't mind if I put a hand on the back of his neck while he's driving. Or let's me kiss him on the lips as he leaves to go to work in the morning.

I miss the physicality of motherhood too. It's different now that my children are older.

For all of you who wish your kids wouldn't climb on you, or want to sleep in your bed, or paw at you just wanting to be picked up, don't wish away those moments.

Too soon they let go first.

I've had a hug this week that lasted much longer than I thought it would. My boy is muscly and hard now, but so, so soft.

Never stop hugging first. Find every moment to touch them. If they shake it off, do it again the next time. They are part of your body forever. They'll get it one day.

I sometimes wonder what might happen to me if I can't find this physical connection. Sometimes part of me thinks I will just wither away and become allergic, if you like, to any kind of touch. Shy away, recoil, step back, from any attempt.

I hate it sometimes when I see couples making this connection. Holding hands, sitting close, entangled on the lounge while they watch the football.

Some days I think the Cold War would have been easier to negotiate than these feelings.

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