So, there I was.
Two days short of my forty-sixth birthday (it's tomorrow, there's still time to spoil me), and where was I?
Sitting in a navy blue Nissan Micra, having a picnic lunch in the New Forest, drinking tea out of a Thermos flask.
There was a Jack Russell terrier in the back seat, leaving muddy paw-prints and dog fluff everywhere, and all the scene was missing was a jaunty hat and a tartan blanket.
The sandwiches were cheese and pickle, if you're asking.
The cutting edge of excitement, I think you will agree.
In my list of my greatest achievements in the last year, I list growing facial hair and buying a pair of open-toed sandals.
Is this all there is to life? (Hint: No)