Life... A work in progress
It strikes me that the power invested in me as a columnist is substantial. No more muttering of petty grievances under my breath... I can vent them in print!
Poor internet service providers beware. Supermarket assistants mind your peas and queues. Fellow motorists be on your guard.
And you there... you at the back. Family and friends. Yes you. Be afraid, be very afraid.
My first task was to pick a title. Grumpy Old Woman? That's already been taken and besides, two out of three of those epithets don't apply. (Deduct a mark for those of you who smirked and asked which two.)
Buy one get one free on main course and specials excludes fillet steaks and beef Wellington
Must book to qualify 01209 860332 and present voucher on arrival
Mon- Thur 6-9pm
Contact: 01209 700617
Valid until: Saturday, December 21 2013
Perhaps a pun on my name? So Su Me. Or... well, actually, that was the only one I could come up with. Then I realised, as I celebrated yet another birthday recently, that life really is a work in progress. Ta da!
We're born, we grow up, we go out in brown suede hot pants and a skimpy top, start cutting out money-off vouchers and then we die. But what an amazing journey. I know life can be difficult at times (believe me, I do) but let's seize the day. Carpe diem! as the Latin has it. Grab life tight and hang on for the ride. And if all that fails, go to college, train to be a journalist, develop your career over three decades and, when no-one is looking, grab some column space and start evening the score.
Which brings me neatly round to birthdays. They're getting to be more trouble every year, and I'm slap bang between "big ones". I lie. I was 56 last Sunday. So not "slap bang" at all.
I couldn't think of anything I want as a present – especially as I recently bought an expensive piece of technology that cost more than my 1978 wedding reception.
But my nearest and dearest don't want to let the occasion go without making a fuss. And they did, bless them, with no clues or hints at all. Perfume, books, CDs, flowers and a meal at my favourite restaurant.
My husband likes clues... ever since the gift-wrapped wok incident. I like surprises – obviously not of the wok variety – and he likes to know what he's getting. Chalk and cheese, I suppose. Still, only 101 gift-buying days until Christmas.
My husband thinks he has right of reply. He doesn't.