Today is my birthday. I am 65 years old. This afternoon with the arrival of the post I have just spent a happy half an hour opening my cards. One friend has sent me a card with a horse’s arse on the front of it – I have no idea why, but she always was a trifle weird.

I have no idea where the time has gone, but it has definitely gone and I am teetering on the verge of being an official old age pensioner. Yes… next year I can claim my state pension, free bus pass, and then turn off my NHS laptop and RETIRE.

Retirement has always been something that happens to old people, but now very soon it will be happening to me. When I started work at the hospital back in 2002 most of the secretaries were older than me. Now they’re all younger than I am, because the older ones have either retired or died. Sometimes I feel like Methuselah, and that’s one of the reasons I prefer working from home!

However, being a stage 4 cancer survivor, I am happy that I have made it this far. We’ll be meeting both our sons this evening in a local pub to celebrate my longevity, while their wives act as Mum’s taxi and ferry the youngsters around to choir, swimming etc. We’ll get together with the entire immediate family on Sunday for lunch in town, and then Sam and I will travel to London to stay overnight before my birthday treat to Windsor Castle on Monday. I’ve always wanted to visit there, and I hope it’s not raining for our long walk down that famous driveway.

The way I look at ageing now is that every day is a bonus. I’d have turned up my toes years ago if it wasn’t for all the treatment I’ve had. So what if I’m 65? I’m still here to see my grandchildren grow up.

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