Is Forty. Is Good!

In amongst the lung infections and the creaky bones and the whinging, it was my birthday last week, and I turned forty! Up until the last minute we didn't know if Keith would be well enough to make it away, but he rallied, and we flew off to Melbourne for a last-blast Mum and Dad getaway before the Little Hairy One arrives.

My lovely mum-in-law Liz minded the smallies, we had some excellent catch-ups with Keith's sister Jen, and managed a very little bit of wandering around, but we couldn't walk far. Mostly, we tucked up in the beautiful Langham Hotel, eating room service, taking baths and sleeping. One night, Keith wrapped up wooly, I strapped on my beige pelvic support undergarment, and we went to the ballet, which was just lovely.

Fancy hotel life, ballet and lipstick. It was much fun to play at grown up glamour for a couple of days.

My lovely friends bought me some beautiful boots, and wonderful packages arrived in the mail. Children sang down the phone and friends Facebooked sweet messages. Teppanyaki fun is planned with nieces and nephews. There have been visitors coming down with lunch and cakes. Girlfriends who make you lunch and then fold your washing - what could be better?

I think forty will be a fine old age to be. And in three weeks my toy-boy Dr Keith will join me in his fifth decade, and two weeks after that a new little person will come for a twenty-year sleepover at the Mogantosh Ranch.

So all is well.