Carrie, have you learned as much as us in the past four years?

SINCE the Sex and the City television series finished, I can't help but wonder, how is poor little Brady Brady faring?

Regular viewers might remember that, after being nasty to Steve Brady for several years and then dumping him, Miranda Hobbes accidentally had his baby. Even she realised she'd been harsh, so to make up for keeping Steve at arm's length, she called the baby Brady Hobbes. Then, when she saw Steve being happy with another woman, Miranda decided she wanted him back. He succumbed and they got married. So then the baby was called Brady Brady. Nobody connected with the show has mentioned this little problem, but it's haunted me for years. Mind you, I suppose having the same name twice didn't hurt Boutros Boutros-Ghali.

When the show ended in 2004, I had the time and leisure to debate such things as Brady Brady's predicament, but now I'm older, wiser and busier, it doesn't occupy quite so many of my waking hours.

To be honest, although I enjoyed SATC, I never identified with the characters (shopping at Chanel, making partner in a law firm, appearing in House & Garden magazine and making friends with the local transsexual crack whores never being high on my to-do list), but the clothes were great and every so often, Carrie would ask one of her "I couldn't help but wonder…" questions and it would be interesting.

Such as: "I couldn't help but wonder… do we search for 'lessons' to lessen the pain?" (Probably). Or: "How often is normal?" (Not sure, but less than Samantha); or "Are we sluts?" (If you weren't, there wouldn't be a show). If only she'd asked the question that always bugged me: "I couldn't help but wonder… how could anyone spend two minutes with Miranda without wanting to slap her?"

But that was four years ago and we've all moved on since then, haven't we? I can't help but wonder… do we really need a Sex and the City film – especially now we have Desperate Housewives?

For me, the inherent weakness of the original series was Carrie herself. Here was a woman who wrote about relationships constantly. Her whole life revolved around analysing love, life and sexual etiquette to the extent that she did nothing else (except buy shoes). Yet somehow, in all those years, she learned absolutely nothing.

You'd think that she might possibly have reached a few conclusions after asking so many questions, but no. She was making the same mistakes at the end of the final episode as she was in the first.

Mr Big was a beguiling character, but I couldn't applaud when she fell back into his arms at the series finale. This man regularly reappeared in Carrie's life to mess it up whenever he noticed she was happy and serious about someone else.

When he pursued her in the last episode, he did so with the blessing of her friends, but it was a pure fluke that he'd come sniffing around again when Carrie was genuinely miserable. He did his old trick of pushing his way back in because he couldn't stand that she'd created a life without him. She did her old trick of letting him. All the romance in Paris couldn't change that awkward little truth.

On the other hand, the series allowed Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha to grow and change in a much more satisfactory way. Miranda went from hard-nosed career bitch to hard-nosed mother, wife and carer to her senile mother-in-law, living in – whisper it – unfashionable Brooklyn. Charlotte found that being half of the perfect couple didn't mean that life would be perfect, and ended up fighting for a way to be with the last man on earth she thought she'd find attractive. Samantha realised that cancer might be slightly more serious than the menopause and learned to accept love when it was given, rather than reject it on principle.

These three all developed and went on some sort of life journey, finding out along the way that what made them happy wasn't necessarily what they'd been looking for. They all grew up – except for Carrie, who was the only one who got what she thought she wanted.

At least the film shows Carrie and Big still together after four years – a record for both of them, if memory serves – so hopefully they've both matured enough to ask some different questions this time around.

But I can't help but wonder, will it still be all about shoes and self-absorption, or will somebody, somewhere have spared a thought for poor little Brady Brady?