So, another year older and possibly another year wiser.
All I know is that having a birthday is the perfect opportunity for thinking about life in general.
Who knew that turning 36 would be such a milestone? I just thought it was one of those 'nothing special' birthdays sandwiched between 35 and 40. But no, I am beginning to wonder if I'm starting to get that dreaded affliction of oldladyitis.
The symptoms were hard to spot at first, but now I'm wondering if they've actually been brewing for some time.
I realised something was amiss when on holiday last month in France I became obsessed with jugs. Porcelain, enamel, handcrafted, it didn't matter what they were made from, I just had to have them. And so I scoured the markets, collecting this item which had previously brought no joy into my life, like a mad woman.
'What are you going to do with them?' said, The Boy.
'No idea, they just look nice.' I replied.
I've also started to get into gardening. Anybody who knows me, will know that as much as I like plants, it is possibly the worst gift you could buy me, as I will guarantee its life will be over within a week. Trust me, I can even kill a cactus.
Now when I mean 'get into gardening', I actually mean it. I've been looking at blogs, gardening websites, and like everything. My neighbour who is a whizz at all things green, has even taken pity on me and is giving me a hands-on horticultural session every weekend to sort out our garden.
My latest project actually suggests I might already be in the advanced stages of oldladyitis, because I've started up a book club. With my brain barely managing to digest anything more taxing than Heat magazine, I figured this is one sure way to limber up the ol' grey matter again. And it's a chance to have to catch up with those who just about get a 'Hello. How are you?' as I bundle three kids into the car on a daily basis.
So I'm jug collecting, gardening, starting a reading group, so far so dull. Then I remember I own a bread making machine, and I also love crafts. OMG - it's practically game over.
All this, is seriously denting the 'What do you mean I'm not 28?' stance I've been rocking the past few years. I might as well live in Wisteria Lane because I'm fast becoming a desperate housewife.
And After seeing the Tracey Emin exhibition today, I now want to gem up on how to appliqué.
Can you ever thwart the symptoms which take you from one foot in the rave to one foot in middle age?
