We’ve been out to a party tonight and although I had a camera in my handbag for the whole evening, I was having such a great time, I didn’t even think about taking a photo until we were home and had spent a happy half-hour or so listening to the new Ed Sheeran album. That, in itself, is something I never thought I’d hear myself say. I also balk at the next comment – bloody good it was too. (I must be going soft.)

I was terrified at the prospect of going out, horribly insecure at the prospect of “being me” in front of people that I’m normally “marketing manager” to. I did my usual “head in the sand” approach to such an event, left it until the last moment to get ready, pulled on and off several outfits – too tight, too much cleavage, too frumpy etc. I finally settled on a plain “little black dress”, then realised that the only pair of tights I owned was a pair given to me in an emergency by my gorgeous friend Ginny last time we went on the razz together so that must have been at least eight years ago. Note to self: don’t think your wardrobe is anywhere near “fixed” yet, after the wilderness years of student-dom.

The do turned out to be a great evening, full of laughter and dancing. I’ve just discovered that my love of dancing hasn’t abated over the wilderness years. It’s wonderful how much I feel at home in our new group of friends.

So, we’re on the sofa giving the dogs some love after leaving them for the evening and DM says “have you taken a picture?” Yikes, no.! So I grabbed my camera and a flash gun and this is the result – it’s much better than it ought to have been in the circumstances.