It was my birthday on Thursday and I was 59 plus interest. Okay, three years’ interest.
And all my girlie pals are now on ‘hubby alert’.
A few years ago I had one of my spooky visions that I would marry hubby number three when I was 62.
Mmm, I wouldn’t mind getting married again.
New frilly frock and a bit of a shindig for all my pals.
But live in the marital home together with my husband?
I’d rather stay in my seaside bijou bedsit and bog, and just nip round at weekends to his pad.
Do you remember folks years ago when I stopped living with the ‘stud muffin’?
We were still together and I would nip round his with a home-cooked meal, knock on his front door and shout ‘meals on heels, nosh and nookie’.
Well that would suit me now, even in marriage.
I like slobbing around at home in my PJs, hair scraped up in a scrunchie.
I like living alone.
And according to a recent UK survey, 23 per cent of couples, that’s 2.3 million people, in a serious relationship live apart, whether by choice or circumstances.
And this number is growing rapidly, especially in the more mature age group.
Although we’d like a life partner, we are set in our ways and really don’t want to give up our independence.
Also, over the years we’ve accumulated oodles of ‘stuff’, which would make merging two households into one very challenging.
Yes of course running two homes is more expensive, but it gives both parties an escape valve to have their own space when needed.
I’ve met quite a few mature couples with ‘live-out’ lovers who get together at weekends, and it works really well.
My parents were married for 60 years.
Dad passed over in 2009 and, as you know, Mum’s in a nursing home.
I’ve had to sell their flat to pay for her fees, nearly £600 a week.
Most of their furniture has gone to charity.
But the flat walls are lined with black plastic dustbin bags full of their ‘lives’ waiting to go to the municipal dump.