A grim picture for women now

I AM beginning to think that Edvard Munch's famous painting The Scream might actually have been a terrifying vision of the future of womanhood. It certainly sums up how many women feel in these days of so-called equality, when juggling careers, motherhood, marital bliss and Facebook updates leaves us trying to stop our heads from exploding.

Women, I would suggest, have never had it so bad – and the ironic thing is that we've done it to ourselves by demanding "equality" with men, a concept which is surely now so past its sell-by-date that even Gordon Brown might be forced to chuck it in the bin.

Despite advances in employment law which ensure that women's abilities are not written off the moment they're married, it is still women who do most of the domestic drudgery, who run from office to nursery or childminder to pick up the children, who are filled with anxiety when they need to take time off to look after a sick child.

It's not just mothers who have it hard. From school, girls are told that they will have to be better than boys to get on in life, to carve out that career, to break through the glass ceiling.

The moment they start to work they begin to identify themselves by their jobs – in the same way men do – but to such an extent that the idea of "being a mum" and stopping work no longer seems a reasonable option. More than that, it makes little financial sense, as two incomes are now required to live reasonably well.

Even if they don't want to become a parent and instead plough all their energies into work, women are still likely to be paid an average of just 86.4 per cent of what men earn an hour.

This week things were painted even bleaker. Nicola Brewer, chief executive of the Equalities and Human Rights Commission, said that increasing maternity rights could damage women's career prospects and childcare costs are so astronomical that women are being forced to give up work.

While it's undoubtedly a good thing that women in the 21st century have many more life choices available to them, I'm beginning to wonder if the feminist dream of "having it all" is in fact more of a Munchian nightmare.

Take having babies. You might think that things would be better today than in the past, but no. Around 30 years ago a woman could go into hospital to have a baby and spend seven calm days recovering. Her child was with her through the day, taken away at night and only brought back for feeding before being whisked away again to let her sleep.

There was no thought that a new mum wouldn't "bond" with her child if it wasn't with her 24 hours a day, and no diktats about how the baby should be fed. Then off she'd go home, more than likely to be helped by an extended family, with no suggestion that she should be going out to work in a matter of months.

Compare that to nowadays when mums are in and out of hospital in 48 hours, bottle-feeding is a dirty word and, thanks to the job market, many women live miles from their families. Then there's the constant worry about when to return to work, if they'll even have a job, how much childcare will cost, and whether they will be able to juggle it all.

Is it any wonder that 20 per cent of mums will suffer from post-natal depression? Is it any wonder that 99.9 per cent of them are knackered?

Equality has not led to an easier life for women – because men's lives, in the main, have stayed the same. Today, fewer than one in eight mothers get to stay home and look after their children themselves because financial demands have left them with no other choice. Indeed over the past 15 years the number of stay-at-home mothers has plummeted by 25 per cent.

It's time for a reality check. Whether we like it or not, women can't have it all. If we want high-flying careers we're going to have to relegate motherhood down the list and sacrifice spending time with our children. If we want to put our energies into being mothers rather than board members, then we will have to settle for smaller incomes and fewer prospects.

It's a hard pill to take after years of demanding otherwise, but we'll have to swallow it.

Beeb's T off the boil
It's been five years since I last set a welly-booted foot on Balado soil and enjoyed the delights of T in the Park. These days I'm relegated to catching the "highlights" on television.

But my real problem with the BBC's coverage this year is with its presenters. Apart from Edith Bowman, the rest looked like a bunch of London art school dropouts more interested in attracting birds to roost in their hair than speaking in a coherent manner.

Or they were pals of television producers who hang out in the "trendy" cafes of Glasgow's West End.

Whoever they were, they were completely out of their depth working with a "live" event. They left me more T'd off than Amy Winehouse's singing.

Signs of the times
My normal train journey is off the rails at the moment thanks to engineering works, so I thought I'd give the park-and-ride at Ingliston a go the other morning. It was great . . . until the bus reached Haymarket. It took an incredibly frustrating half hour to get from Manor Place to the east end of Princes Street thanks to the roadworks.

Still, at least there were some lovely signs of the new tram to look at on the way. Thanks TIE.