That's it. I've become Middle-Aged. I've bought a lawnmower. I even bought the matching strimmer to go with it. It's not like I can use it surreptitiously in the night so as to deny any connection to it, they'd just hear the noisy monstrosity. Cutting grass is just so flipping suburban and ordinary and dull!!

I used to be a person who did interesting things. I used to have fun. I used to have sex, for goodness sake! I'm at that tricky 6 month stage - any time up to six months it doesn't seem that long ago so it's not such a big deal - and in another couple of months it will be just like something I have a vague memory of doing long long ago, like shopping for size 10s and actually appreciating the reflection in the changing room mirror ( ok - so even when my waist was as small as my 10year old godson's, I still bewailed the size of my bum), or going to discos and drinking pints, the types of things that you used to quite enjoy doing but you know you'll never do again.

Until then I have an overwhelming desire to do something, anything completely shocking and hedonistic and deliciously wicked, to stem the onset of greying spinsterhood. I'm not sure quite what yet but if I find myself gazing at gardener's trug catalogues or trying on a jaunty straw hat and dolly-mixture print summer frock combination then it will definitely have to be something sufficiently naughty to knock Abi Titsout off the front pages.

Now I hope this rain hasn't undone all that good work I did yesterday. "Mass Weedocide by Plump Middle-Aged Spinster" the headlines will go. "Well they were multiplying all over the place. It was like even the weeds were taunting me that they all had successful relationships" said the greying haired lawyer, 34, in her mitigation speech before the board of the local Law Society.