On Monday, 5 April, according to the saying, my life begins. Which does make me wonder what I've been doing with my existence for the last 39 sodding years.
From what I've been told, at some point in the morning of my birthday I will get visited by the Cardigan Fairy. She's accompanied by the Slippers Elf and the You Call That Music? Troll.
To avoid this, we're going away in the morning and spending next week in a Small Welsh Village. And in the manner of Small Welsh Villages everywhere (well, those in Wales, at least) there is no Internet there. Heck, there's not even a reliable mobile phone signal. We're going to be in a deep, deep valley, drinking beer and eating Welsh black steaks. And on Monday I shall spend the day in bed, weeping bitter tears of sorrow into my pillow at the thought of my lost youth. Or something like that.
So stick around, gentle reader, for when I return I shall be mature and measured.
First time for everything, I suppose.