Vanessa and I used to live exciting lives.
We met in that London, you know - where the Queen lives.
We worked in the Houses of Parliament where our nation's most important decisions are made.
We went to flash parties, mingled with celebrities and drunk champagne 'til the sun (or the champagne) came up.
We travelled to all the corners of the planet in search of adventure. And Wales.
We had big plans, big aspirations, big dreams.
But then we decided to, you know, "settle down," for want of a better phrase.
We bought a house, got married and, most recently, had a baby (you may have read about it).
And all of these things were and continue to be equally exciting in their own particular ways.
But then, the weekend before last, we went out and bought a new oak table and chairs. It was something we'd been thinking about for some time and we'd even looked at a few different options beforehand.
However, I preached caution. We couldn't just go for any table and chairs - it had to be the right table and chairs.
So, a couple of weeks ago, I went on a lunchtime recce to Harvey's in Bradford which sells, handily enough, tables and chairs (amongst other items). And there were a few reasonable deals although nothing earth shattering.
The Whites returned there en masse ten days ago, on a Saturday morning. And, when we walked in, there it was. The deal of the century (don't forget there's only been eight years so far): six shiny brown chairs for £199 and get this...A FREE TABLE! (which once retailed for £599, according to the shop assistant, although I am quite gullible).
We pretended to look at other offers on show (well, Vanessa and I did - Jamie was asleep in his mobile car seat on the floor) but, in truth, our minds were already made up.
Since then, our six shiny brown chairs and free table have been delivered (by Grandad Mike and Grandma Judy in their camper van) and we've set everything up (admittedly, Jamie slept through that bit too).
And do you know what? I'm probably as much if not more thrilled about our new table and chairs than just about anything I ever did in London.
Which begs the obvious question - how did I suddenly get so old?!