So

Forty.

Still the same, or as my Father's wonderful card said, 'You're not forty, you're twenty one with nineteen years of experience'.

The funeral, as ever was grim. The point when the curtains came around the coffin was particularly sad. My nephews, who are the same age as my boys, had been stoic in their approach to the event, but collapsed, crying, into their parents arms as they said goodbye to their Grandfather. My brother in law , their father, was remarkably strong through the whole service, but you could see he was struggling, but held it together for his boys.

Thankfully, the other parts of today were more jolly. I lucked in on some good pressies. A voucher for The Harbourmaster in Aberaeron from my Mum and Sis, which is a wonderful little hotel in West Wales, some rather natty shirts from Boy 1, a deliciously whiffy leather pocket wallet from Boy 2, and the manbag to end all man bags from A. I usually carry a laptop bag and a briefcase for files to meetings, but this baby takes the lot. And it's in a rather fetching duck egg blue and light brown leather. I am now a fully fledged, paid up, great big gayer.

Listening to Colin Hay singing 'Overkill' acoustically, which always makes me joyful.Toooooooooooooooooooo deep.

My life, I have decided, is a bit of a good one, and I'm rather thankful for that.

Okey doke.