Nearly 40

In all likelihood, seeing as it's only two days away, this will be my last post as a thirty-something. It's been a very good decade in all, for which I am extremely grateful. I went freelance shortly turning after 30, and I will continue to be a freelance writer into the middle of next month at least (sadly, we freelancers rarely have the luxury of looking much further forward than that!). After a few wobbles here and there - most notably just over two years ago when PC Answers closed - it's been a remarkably stable career choice, and I've now been self-employed for longer than I was employed by Future.

Personally it's obviously been a success - still married, and now the father of two gorgeous daughters (who will no doubt continue to run us ragged as they grow older!). Still own our own home, and the mortgage is lower now than it was 10 years ago, so that's moving in the right direction too.

I'm actually in better shape physically than I was at 30, gradually losing all the weight I rapidly put on in my late 20s - I can thank my young children for that I suspect - so in many ways my thirties have definitely been a successful decade. Assuming I don't get run over or have a nasty accident in the next 48 hours or so, at least...

These days, of course, turning 40 isn't quite as traumatic an event as it maybe used to be. 40 is the new 30 they say (or the new 20 if you're really pushing your luck, eh Courtney Cox?). I certainly don't feel like I'm 40, but then dad says he still only feels 35 now, so I suspect that's not something anyone particularly feels unless their life has been really hard. I'm even still playing football once a week, although the bonus of definitely being a better player now is offset by the loss of stamina and pace, and the longer time it takes to recover! Hmm, thinking about gingerly going down the stairs on a Thursday morning, perhaps I do feel like I'm 40 after all.

So with all that mind, there's nothing to be scared of when it comes to turning the big Four Zero. Which, of course, explains exactly why part of me is petrified of the thought. I may never have been cool, but I was once young.