As my office is in a marina, I expect posh yachting types to turn up in their flash cars, putting my little eight-year-old, usually-filthy car to shame.
Those who know me well have long understood my passion for fast cars.
So they were not surprised to find out that, when the chap in the unit next door got his new Jaguar F-Type at the end of last week, I wasted no time in demanding a spin in it.
In between exhaust gurgles I asked him why he’d bought it.
He told me a friend of his had been umming and aaahing about buying a car he really wanted.
Three days later his friend, 49, had a massive heart attack.
It was, so the man next door said, a lesson in living life while you have the chance.
Hence his own decision to get the car he really wanted.
Good for him and I’ve sort of been doing a similar thing.
When my marriage went south a couple of years ago I decided to embark on what I fondly call the Judd Patented Pizza And Wine Diet.
The pounds piled on.
Despite getting fit and running distances more sensibly completed in a car, I’m still a bit of a porker.
So I’ve recently decided to cut out the filth, reduce the wine intake and get my pre-divorce figure back.
You don’t have to be intelligent to know that swapping too many afternoon biscuits for a banana makes good sense.
You don’t have to be intelligent to know that gaining weight is going to be a one-way trip to type 2 diabetes – with blindness, amputation and an early death a real risk.
Now, however, the National Institute for Clinical Excellence is recommending extending its weight loss surgery to tens of thousands more people in a bid to tackle the type 2 diabetes ‘epidemic’.
But giving people a gastric band will not stop the problem.
Educating them that salad might save their lives may do.
That, and explaining that life is for living and that getting in and out of flash sports cars would be impossible if you were dangerously obese.