That's what I should have done.

But a few weeks ago I took an entirely different book out to Greece.

While my friend Nikki was enjoying a bit of chick lit by the pool, I was on the next sunlounger taking in THE feminist tome – The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer.

I sighed my way through it, sharing a few shocking passages and words of wisdom now and then.

Women shouldn't get married and they shouldn't confine themselves to living with a man – it is, apparently, a recipe for disaster.

We should be career-minded (not just filling a gap, as Germaine accuses us of, between education and married life), natural to the point of leaving all our body hair in place and, if we want to be true feminists, even taste our own menstrual blood.

I was appalled – so much so that Nikki threatened to take the book off me on several occasions, just to put me out of my misery.

It reminded me of a conversation I'd had with my mother before I left London for university.

"Feminism is so outdated," I told her, with all my 19 years of worldly experience. "We've won that war."

Her reply?

"If you really believe that, you've got a lot to learn."

I'm still learning now.

Far too much of what Germaine wrote about in 1970 is still going on today.

I've had plenty of shocked responses when I tell people on the phone at work that I am the chief reporter.

I was even asked by an 18-year-old boy if I was someone's secretary.

Journalism will always be seen as a man's world – even though my college and subsequent training courses have been teeming with women.

Although, as Germaine correctly points out, I certainly consider myself 'one of the boys' in our office.

Miss Greer states that women shouldn't behave like men to achieve their goals, but I can't imagine not getting involved with the blokey banter that seems to keep us all sane.

I like clothes and shoes and make-up but I also want to be respected for the person I am.

Where do I go from here?

Burn my bra? No thanks. I actually find it quite useful.