I've reached the age which, according to Douglas Adams, is the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything. Problem is, what on earth is the question?
If you have read The Hitch Hikers’ Guide to the Galaxy, the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything is 42. Which is funny because a few days’ ago, that’s exactly the age I reached.
Unfortunately, I don’t have an improbability drive to take me somewhere interesting with Zaphod Bettlebrox, so it looks like I’m going to have to stay here in the flatlands. Which means I’ll have to make my own entertainment. Actually, I couldn't really give a toss about turning 42. I mean, what have I got to worry about? I’ll only be a day older and not that much can happen. It’s not like the modern world is prejudiced against women in their forties, especially single ones, is it?
I shall tweak the nose of society’s ageism as I’m still rockin’ and if you saw me in my hockey debut, rollin’ as well. You’re never too old to pick up a bendy stick and knock a few balls around and I did that last month, with hilarious results. And by hilarious, I mean painful and slightly embarrassing. We had a little practice after a hard day’s lion taming at the zoo and after getting the basic hang of moving a ball around – this time I managed to use the right end of the stick – we played a little match. I was quite enjoying it until I fell over front first and skidded across the gravel in a really ouchy way. Ten years of taekwondo, sparring in international competitions and a 3rd Dan black belt and all I get is a slightly dodgy knee; half an hour of hockey and a have blood spurting out of my knee and palm like a naughty ten year old. Bless our human resources lady who donned her blue gloves and picked the grit out of my extremities and for marking another first, appearing in the accident book of the place where I work.
The hockey match itself was a good laugh. I was put in the mercifully unimportant position of left back but I managed to defend a couple of potential goals and had a good laugh. So that’s something ticked from my bucket list. After a proper amount of ribbing at taekwondo, which included, whilst trying to gross my colleagues out with my grazed palm, ‘you look like an extra from The Walking Dead’ and ‘has a vampire been having a nibble?’
What else is there to do when you turn 42? Go to a beer festival with your mates from taekwondo of course. Now I’m normally a cocktail and Prosecco girl but I was given a glass jug and so I went for the ones with the silliest names. Yes, there are beers called ‘Moo’ and ‘Bleat’ but the favourite of the day was definitely ‘Cock.’ Oh how we laughed as we dared each other to ‘get some Cock’; or ask ‘is that a pale or dark Cock’; and my favourite of the afternoon, ‘may I have a sniff of your Cock please.’ So many jokes; so little time.
It’s coming! My new novel Ashwood House will be out sometime around the end of the month. It’s a supernatural thriller with quite a bit of grit and as soon as I make the final decision, a cover reveal will be here soon.