Today I turned 50,
Turning 50 I not something I've been looking forward to but strangely, it's not something I've been dreading either.
It's just a number, one number more than I was yesterday..
I remember meeting 50 year-olds when I was a teenager and wondering what it would feel like to be quite that old.
And here I am, exactly that old, and I'm not sure how it feels but I am almost sure that it was only moments ago that I was wondering.
Time has always seemed to move in unpredictable waves,.
Some long, boring days seem to last years while whole decades can pass by in an instant...
But, however it moves, time can't prevent some of the home-truths that turning 50 has forced me to face.
I can no longer pretend, when I look in the mirror, that my body isn't drooping.
I can no longer pretend that my hair isn't more grey than brown or that my wrinkles aren't more permanent than temporary.
I no longer hope that I will write a great masterpiece some day,,, some day has passed.
I no longer imagine that I will be the perfect parent .......my kid's are too honest for that.
I no longer believe I'm right all the time (only most of it)......it's too tiring.
I no longer pretend to understand how to work the TV remote control....it's easier to hand it over to someone who does.
I know that I have lived more of my life than I have left to live
And I know for sure that if I drink too much, it will take me days not hours to recover.
And yet..and yet...
As I enter my second half century, i can't help feeling that I have more to celebrate than to regret.
I have a loving family who never cease to fill me with awe and wonder at all that they are and do and will become.
I have friends who are kinder and more caring than I could possibly deserve.
I am never lonely.
My days are full of light and colour and laughter (apart from when they are full of bad moods and shouting and grumpiness)
My nights are never empty - how could they be with so much good TV!
And if I ever want to escape from it all....I have my blog.
Life is not about the number of years you have lived but about what you have done with them..
And I don't mean grand gestures that have changed the world - those world-changers are few and far between.
What is important is that you have not wasted the years, that you have been brave enough to do what you believe is right, strong enough to face the consequences, humble enough to admit when you are wrong., whimsical enough to follow your dreams.
ti is not our age that defines us but our actions - which, in many ways, is unfortunate.
So, I'm hoping to move into my 51st year with a clean slate - no more pouring bottles of red wine over brand new cream carpets, no more secretly inviting live bands to play at a party when you are living in the basement, no more permanently borrowing bar stools from pubs, no more climbing pillars in car parks. (.....well.. less often at least..).
And here' s the thing...however old you are, there are some things you never have to give up:.
You don't have to give up chocolate or cheesecake or "twisted pear," cocktails.
You should never stop hoping or dreaming or believing that a little bit of magic would make the world a better place.
So here I stand, balanced on the edge of my second half century, certain that life is full of potential and that magical things do happen.
And waiting, just waiting ,for my next big adventure to begin...wherever it takes me..
As one of my birthday cards says: The older you get, the better you get....unless you are a banana.
Spring has almost arrived in South East England.
On the trees the buds of blossom are about to burst.
On the ground, wild hyacinths are beginning sprinkle the undergrowth with purple spears.
And up above, the skies are trying to turn a deeper shade of blue.
The world is about to be filled with colour and sunshine and nesting birds.
The evenings are about to become long and warmer and filled with laughter.
Spring is eternally, fear defyingly hopeful.
And if ever there was a time when we needed an infusion of hope, it's now.
Sometimes if feels that there is no way out of the misery and fear that is engulfing our world.
Each day brings new stories of austerity cuts that seem to make the rich richer and the poor poorer.
Every piece of news is full of the tragic stories of refugees and migrants who didn't make it, of children's bodies being washed up on beaches, of small countries that can no longer cope with carrying the burden of other people's dreams.
And every morning we wake wondering if today will be the day the terrorists strike again, innocent people killed in a frenzy of someone else's religious fervour.
Sometimes the enormity of all that is wrong with the world can take your breath away.
Sometimes the sense of anger and injustice can be suffocatingly overwhelming.
But we cannot give up on hope.
Hope is the life-jacket that keeps us afloat amidst the debris and destructive detritus of war and politics and religious extremism.
Sometimes it comes as a surprise that most of the time, with all these terrible things happening we live our normal lives.
Usually I spend more time worrying about whether to hang the washing inside or outside than what essential service the government will cut next.
Mostly I am more pre-occupied with what to cook for dinner than whether the next boatload of refugees and migrants have made it safely to shore.
And generally I am more anxious about preparing my lectures, making sure the kids have eaten breakfast or remembering if I locked the back door, than wondering where the next suicide bomber will wreak their tragic havoc.
But perhaps that's just how we protect ourselves.
If we worry enough about the little things that we can do something about, then we don't have to think about the bigger things that we feel powerless to change.
" Why do you still make the kids packed lunches every day?" my husband asks, "they should make their own."
And he's right of course.
At 16 and 18 they should be making their own lunches.
But knowing that I have done that one little thing every day to help them, makes me feel better, wraps me in hope.
It's with such tiny acts of love that we will conquer fear.
It's by valuing all that is mundane in our daily lives that we can defy terrorism.
" Whatever you do," we are saying, " we will carry on living our lives.
We will not stop loving because you want us to hate.
We will not stop building bridges because you want us to build barbed wire fences.
We will not stop hoping because you want us to fear.
We will not let our lives be consumed by all that is wrong in the world but will carry on celebrating all that is right.
And so, for as long as they need me to, I will wrap my kids sandwiches in cling film and love - even if the fillings are very boring!
Because here's the thing.
The government might cut all our essential services until there is nothing left.
The refugees might keep arriving, searching for the life they deserve to live
The terrorist might keep plotting to cause death and destruction.
But nothing, not politicians or wars or terrorism, can stop spring from arriving.
And this year, the blossom on our peach tree is going to be the fiercely vibrant, most deeply beautiful pink it has ever been.
