LAST week I had one of those days which started badly and never really got any better.

You see, I was working on my laptop at home and suddenly the power died. My TV did too, and I assumed a fuse switch in my hall cupboard had tripped.

It was a hot, humid day as I began pulling item after item out of my cramped cupboard attempting to get to the fuse box. My dark hair was soon stuck to my face like a spider’s web with sweat, not helped by the fact that I was menopausal and my body felt as though it was on fire.

A few hours later when power was restored, I sat in the shade outside for a break and laughed as I recalled the day a number of years back in my office when the humidity and heat was getting the better of me.

Standing in the canteen queue at work, the ladies serving began commenting on how hot they were behind the counter too, especially with the array of cooking equipment on full blast.

“It’s like the Sahara Desert behind here,” moaned Moira.

“I know,” agreed Ann, flapping her skimpy T-shirt in and out.

“And I can’t wear any less than I already am.”

Before I knew it, the ladies were comparing their menopause symptoms and how they were coping.

“Apart from the heat in this kitchen Janice, I’m feel like I’ve got a fever most of the time,” admitted Moira.

“I changed my pyjamas at least three times last night,” said Ann said.

“Me too,” I agreed. “I was up last night again, drenched, changed my jammies and threw talcum powder all over myself.”

“Did that help?” Moira was curious.

“No,” I shook my head.

“After half an hour the talc turned into a white paste with the sweat and I had to change yet again”.

We all laughed at our predicament, until Ann suggested…

“Have you tried the LadyCare Magnet, Janice?”

I shook my head as I had no clue what she was on about. However, desperation got the better of me, and as soon as I had paid for my food I headed straight to my desk and searched online for this new product hoping it would improve my life.

It read: “This small magnetic device is a safe and drug-free alternative that aims to alleviate the symptoms associated with menopause. It is a small device that women clip discreetly and comfortably on to their underwear.”

“Mmmm… sounds a bit farfetched,” I thought to myself, but reckoned that anything

which could alleviate my

symptoms was certainly worth

a try.

So, during my lunchbreak I headed to Boots the chemist and appeared 20 minutes later excited at the prospect of soon having a night’s uninterrupted sleep.

Heading straight to the toilet at work, I read the instructions.

“Attach the device to your underwear approximately four inches below the navel. Remove the small magnetic button from the main large curved part of the magnet. Place this part of the magnet facing against your body on the inside of your underwear.”

This sounded too good to be true, but I had bought the blinkin’ thing and really had nothing to lose by giving it a go.

Magnet in place, I walked around the huge open plan office mingling with my colleagues, and this day was the same as any other – except that I was now wearing my new LadyCare Magnet stuck to the front of my knickers. I was also wearing a black blouse and black trousers as I toured the office, notebook and pen in hand.

Passing the canteen ladies, I discreetly pointed to my crotch. “It’s on girls.” Wink wink.

I walked through the editorial department and then the magazine department, chatting to my colleagues, until I came to the finance department and stood, quite nonchalantly, discussing various accounts – until Julie stopped in her tracks and pointed at me, but somehow couldn’t speak.

“What’s up Julie?”

Julie pointed speechless again as she dabbed the tears from her eyes.

I thought perhaps I had ink on my face. Until I looked down…

Well… horror of horrors, two-giant sized silver paperclips had magnetically stuck to my crotch.

“On no…” I must have leant over a desk at some point pulling the metal clips on to my trousers and had been walking around the place like an idiot.

Julie still couldn’t speak as I pulled them off.

“It’s my LadyCare Magnet,” I attempted to explain, whilst the males in the office pretended they hadn’t noticed anything, despite the uproar.

“Bloody magnet.”

I relayed my embarrassment to the canteen ladies who thought this was hysterical.

However, that night, I couldn’t help laughing as I ironed my work clothes and my crotch was drawn magnetically to the ironing board, and the next day leaning over my dressing table, I scooped up every hair clip!

So, at least my magic magnet was good for something!