Tomorrow I turn 43. Ordinarily I’m not one to broadcast my birthday like this but on the eve of tearing the wrapping off the chic new polka dot blouse that will epitomise my 44th year, I felt some words on getting older were in order.
I’ve been in denial for some time but the truth is irrefutable. ProBlogger is done and dusted. That plush hotel room and big soft white bed all to myself, towering golden pyramids of pina colada macarons and cheerful Phil (sorry Hank) bringing me a perfectly made double shot cappuccino each morning is all but a distant rosy memory.