Today I had a very happy tale to tell but I have shelved it in response to something that, this evening, has shaken me to the very core.

As I climbed into my car this evening I caught the tail end of the news and heard of the death of Caron Keating last night. She died of Breast Cancer at the tender age of 41.

Caron was not a personal acquaintance (though I have a small hunch my life might have been a little richer if she had been) but she was someone for whom I had enormous admiration. I first saw her when she presented Blue Peter (a children’s TV show of legendary status here in the UK). I admired her, as with all of the Blue Peter presenters, for her grit and determination to land that job – surely one of the most appealing yet demanding in TV. It’s live so they have to ‘think on the hoof’ if something unexpected happens. It’s also a job where you are expected to do some incredibly physically demanding things – I saw her abseil down a building once, not something I’d have done for all the tea in China.

I admired her for her down to earth way of presenting. She never tried to disguise or tone down her broad Belfast accent. She always stuck to her principles. I think the sun setting on this gorgeous forget-me-not is a lovely joyful symbol of a good life and they convey an obvious message. I always enjoyed seeing her present. I remember an article (I think for the Sunday Times) where she talked about being Gloria Hunniford’s daughter and Gloria talked about being her mother.

She was struck down by that most terrifying of illnesses for all women, Breast Cancer. Surely that has to be the most tragic of fates for a young woman – she was diagnosed when only 34 years old – we don’t even start to screen routinely here in the UK for the disease until you are 45 because the risk below that age is considered so tiny. She battled the illness with what her family has described as "with enormous courage, tenacity and optimism". She lost her battle and that is hard to take even for a complete outsider like me. I can only begin to imagine the suffering of her family.

Breast Cancer is surely the most cruel blow to bear. I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling that my breasts are at the very core of my existence. They are the part of a woman that gives life and nurture as well as comfort to our children, they arouse and give pleasure to our lovers (and because of that to us) and they represent our sexuality and the sensual side of us in a way that nothing else can do. It adds a whole extra layer of complexity on top of the terrible consequences of being diagnosed with cancer.

I have heard heartbreaking stories of women who find cancer in one breast electing to have both breasts removed to try to stop the progression of this invidious killer. I have a colleague who, while fighting the illness herself, watched her sister succumb to the disease. My colleague survived and her sister perished. The rest of us can have no understanding of what that would feel like.

This event has shaken me, partly because of the public persona of Caron Keating but partly too because it serves as a reminder to me of our own frailties. How much I feel now that ‘saving for later’ is a mistake. I’m not suggesting I’m about to go out and blow everything on today, simply that we have to take our pleasures now because we just don’t know what’s around that corner. No-one would have believed that this could happen to such a young, vibrant woman. No-one would think it could happen to them.

We really do have to go out there and grab a life for ourselves by the scruff of the neck – living with regrets is just too painful a thought.

Caron Keating leaves behind two little boys who won’t have the pleasure of seeing her become the grandmother of their children or the smile on her face when they open their exam results or tell of their impending marriage. To me, the human tragedy of that simple fact is almost unbearable this evening.