As is my habit on a Sunday morning (I'm a dull and predictable animal), this morning I listened to a recording of yesterday's Pick of the Pops on Radio 2.
It was special episode with not two but three charts from this week in years gone by. (Exciting, I know).
It began with 1978 (when Grease was the word), 1987 (when the streets had no name according to Bono and the boys) and 1998 (when the Corrs wanted to know what I could do to make me love them but needn't have worried).
This was all good until Vanessa pointed out that, despite feeling like yesterday, 1998 was 22 whole years ago. And then I did some maths. I'm currently 48 years old. If you had 22 to that, I'll be 70. What a heartwarming thought that was on a hungover Sunday morning.
More merrily, the kids returned to school this week which was a positive development for all involved.
Let's hope they get to keep going for a few more weeks at least.
Meanwhile, the increased coronavirus restrictions have not helped people's moods over the past few days, necessary though they appear to be. And it means we've never been in more need of a laugh.
So thank you to my tiny friend Jason Kyle for sending me this short video which has made me chortle ever since.
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