But the fact that bits are literally falling off me should hardly be a surprise; I am 40 on Saturday after all.
Yes folks, it was on 31 March 1972 - Good Friday - when I began. They say that when one life ends, another begins. So I must've passed Jesus in the lift.
I remember being incredibly disheartened upon reaching 30. Indeed, I recall talking to an older and much wiser individual than me at the time.
"Barry, son, 30 hit me hard," he said. "40 and 50 came and went, and I hardly noticed. But then I hit 60 and realised I was an old man."
Thankfully (Lord) Ken Maginnis is still going strong well into his 70s, and will no doubt be causing rows for many years. But his words have stuck with me for the last decade and, thus far, my experience is similar to his.
Hitting 40 hasn't sent me on a downer. It's just kind of happened and I'm going to make the best.
This process will begin in earnest at lunchtime on Friday when the first birthday weekend guests are due to arrive.
More on that next time. For now, I think it might be prudent to have an early night.
