YOU know you’re past it when you refer to the Love Islanders as “kids”.

Not a day goes by without a nagging reminder that I am middle-aged. Last night, taking my evening walk, (which is in itself a middle-aged thing to do) I tutted as I passed a young woman who was swearing loudly into her mobile phone. I fuss and cluck over my flower pots like my gran used to. I make a weird grunting noise when I stand up after sitting at my desk for a while, because every inch of me has seized up. I had to get my teenage nephew to sort out my banking app the other day because, frankly, it was beyond me.

And I heard myself say “Oh come on, this is beyond a joke,” when a lively barbecue a few doors down woke me up - then I realised it was only 9.30pm and I’d already been in bed half an hour and nodded off...

But it’s watching Love Island that I really feel my age. This show is not, I hasten to add, generally on my radar because a) I’d rather watch The Repair shop or a nice programme about caravans, or wallow in the sweet nostalgia of a 1987 Top of the Pops, and b) I’m not a teenager. But Love Island is my sister’s guilty summer pleasure so I’ve endured a couple of episodes at her house.

And to be honest I find it all a bit ‘icky’. “They’ve only just met and they’re already in couples and sharing beds!” I muttered, disapprovingly, from the sofa. I’m a little horrified, and at the same time in awe of, the sheer confidence of these young people, who strut around in skimpy swimwear, ‘couple up’ and dump each other at the drop of a hat and think nothing of literally throwing themselves into a series of eye-wateringly saucy tasks - on the telly. If I’d indulged in such public shenanigans at their age I’d have been so mortified I’d still have sleepless nights over it.

The Love Islanders are ridiculously confident, and I can’t imagine how that feels because even when I was their age, with a bikini body to show off, I was nowhere near as full-on as they are. Maybe it’s the confidence that comes with being a social media influencer at the age of 21 and earning more from one Instagram post than most ordinary folk earn in a year.

One of the issues I have with Love Island is that they all have perfect bodies, with glossy hair and gleaming white teeth. This is an age when we’re constantly encouraged to embrace differences and accept people for what they are, warts and all, but as far as I can tell, there are no warts on Love Island.

Would the format work for normal people? It would certainly be a very different show if they did a middle-aged version. For a start, we women would cover up in sarongs around the villa. None of your flesh-revealing bikini thongs, thank you.

The Love Island mantra of “I’ve got a text!” would prompt a rummage in our handbags for our varifocals. And you can forget the saucy tasks. Does anyone fancy a trip to the market instead? Or a leisurely walk to that little bistro in the old town? I think I spotted a nice cheese shop there. And I could do with some comfy wide-fit flip-flops. I’ll just pop on some Factor 50 first. Has anyone seen my varifocals?

Any activity would naturally be followed by an afternoon nap by the pool. And don’t even think about sharing the sun-lounger. As far as romance goes, or a steamy night in the ‘Hideaway’ - really? In this heat? When there’s a perfectly good paperback to get stuck into?

I quite fancy a few weeks of lounging round a lovely villa on a sun-kissed Spanish island. Who wouldn’t? It’s just the ‘love’ bit I could do without.