I always thought I would be a really tidy person by now.

I spent years under the impression that keeping an immaculate house was somehow related to age – that you got neater and neater with every birthday that passed.

I imagined that, somehow over the years, my cupboards and drawers would miraculously and effortlessly all transform into being beautifully organised – simply because I’d reached an age when they really should be.

But they haven’t.

Now don’t get me wrong, we’re not talking about wading through discarded pizza boxes here.

It’s just that women in films and TV sitcoms, especially the ones aged over 40, never seem to suffer the dilemma of wondering how to hide the three pairs of shoes scattered across the living room and rescue their smalls from the radiator on the way to answering the doorbell.

Nope, they throw open their door with gay abandon – you can even detect the scent of freshly baked bread wafting up the nostrils of their caller.

I also thought I’d be cleverer by now.

I’ve realised my failure in that department from my recent addiction of watching numerous replays of quiz and game shows from the ‘80s.

And, yes, It does feel shameful to admit to this nostalgia fix. Viewing of said shows was understandable when we only had four channels to choose from, but barely excusable now.

However, there are so many of them being aired, night and day, that I just can’t be the only one hooked on finding out how ill-fitting and garish Les Dennis’s attire will be on Family Fortunes, how much wit and charm Barrymore will ooze and how random the clues will be on 321.

But back to my brain cells: I caught an episode of Going for Gold last week, a dull programme reluctantly watched between bar shifts in the ‘80s (oh, how times have changed – just four TV channels and not a single pub open between 3pm and 6pm).

I never did get any of the questions right, but as the contestants were mostly middle-aged I assumed that having all that random knowledge at your fingertips was also connected with age.

Wrong. I was dismayed to discover that I still didn’t know any of the answers – another of life’s expectation shot to smithereens.

But you know what, I’m over it. I may not be as tidy and clever as I’d expected, but then I’m not as rich, skinny or pretty as I’d hoped either. Where do you stop?

So maybe I just watch all the wrong films. After all, most of my friends confess they cram all their clutter in their cupboards before inviting someone round – so I know I’m not the only person who doesn’t steam clean their oven after each and every use.

And I might not know my scientific units or chemical elements, but just occasionally I get a question or two right on University Challenge.

Surely it doesn’t get much better than that.