At a riverside deli in the East Ayrshire village of Catrine, about 20 women – some friends, some strangers – are arriving to spend the evening talking about the menopause.



Amid an eye-popping selection of home baking, organiser Shiona Johnston explains the format for this Menopause Cafe, one of 14 that have taken place across the UK, from Perth to Petersfield, since the start of the year alone.

“Most women know about hot flushes but don’t know about other symptoms which they might not even realise are related,” explains Johnston. “A lot are scared about HRT from things they’ve read in the papers. This gives them a chance to share information and what has worked for them.”

The simple guidelines for the event – respecting one another’s confidentiality, not pushing any particular product or service, and encouraging participants to move tables regularly to speak to as many people as possible – were developed by Rachel Weiss, who launched the first Menopause Cafe in June 2017 in her home city of Perth, central Scotland.

“My friends and I sat there waiting, thinking ‘will it just be us three?’”, says Weiss, “but 30 women turned up. After a few hours, people were buzzing: now I know I’m not alone, I’m not going mad. It’s a very human question: am I normal?”

Inspired by the format of Death Cafes, a similar non-profit gathering to encourage people to talk about a previously forbidden subject, Weiss was galvanised into action after watching the Newsnight presenter Kirsty Wark’s very personal documentary on the menopause, Menopause and Me, which screened on BBC One last April. Wark is one of a number of high-profile women, including Lorraine Kelly and Dawn French, who have recently spoken out about their experience of menopausal symptoms.

Debra Salem leads a warm-up singalong before the first Menopause Cafe event in Perth, Scotland. Photograph: Murdo Macleod/The Guardian

“Women all go through it, but we don’t get together and talk about it, so we come to it unprepared,” says Weiss, who runs her own counselling consultancy and, at the age of 51, has yet to go through the menopause. (The average age for a woman living in the UK to reach the menopause is 51, although individuals’ experience varies widely, with most finding that it occurs between 45 and 55, as oestrogen levels decline, periods stop and the body is no longer able to conceive naturally.)

“It’s not just a support group for menopausal women,” Weiss adds, pointing out that attendees have been before, during and beyond the menopause, and included the occasional man wanting to learn how to support his partner. “It’s opening up conversations about the third stage in women’s lives, who am I if I’m not fertile or don’t look like a stereotypical sexy woman?”

“But I’m also very keen that this doesn’t make it all sound dreadful,” Weiss insists. “It’s just enabling people to have conversations. If you are able to say the M-word then it’s also easier for you to go back to your 28-year-old male manager and say ‘I need to wear a cotton shirt with this uniform’ or ‘yes, I really do need a fan at my desk’.”



Indeed, one project for this year, as the Menopause Cafe movement expands and women across the country take up the invitation to host their own events, is to encourage more workplace events, with Scottish and Southern Energy HQ in Perth blazing the trail last month.

Weiss has also planned a series of Saturday afternoon Menopause Festivals (#Flushfest) in Perth, with speakers on health, wellbeing and body image, interspersed with chat and singalongs.

A warm-up exercise at the Menopause Cafe in Perth, Scotland. Photograph: Murdo Macleod/The Guardian

Back in Catrine, what is noticeable is the amount of laughter in the room, which increases in volume as the evening wears on.

In previous generations, the menopause simply wasn’t spoken about, the women agree, and in that sense it is different from childbirth, which was discussed, if only in private. Alex Gregory, the deli owner, shares stories of passersby sniggering at the poster in her window announcing the event – but also others doing a double-take and returning to jot down the details surreptitiously.

Angela Milby, 47, a shop assistant, has not not yet reached this stage herself but has come with a friend and to “get some tips for later”.

“It’s a taboo subject,” she agrees. “I certainly never heard my own mum speak about it. I do like the idea of talking with other ladies who have been through it.”

Sharon Sym, 47, a Menopause Cafe veteran who runs a dog-walking business, believes that embarrassment holds many women back from seeking the help they need. “I wouldn’t talk about my menopause or ask for help until I hit rock bottom, and it started affecting my family life. But I’ve learned we’re all different and we all experience it differently.”

“I’d become a bit of a recluse, but now I’ve got concert and book festival tickets booked all this year.” Her next date is a book signing with Judi Dench. “And if I sweat, I sweat!”