Fortysomethings: Still kidding yourself.

Living thirty miles and a two-hour commute from a major city still means it’s a suburb.
The slippers you bought from M&S are only for occasional use.
You’re not actually humming the first three minutes of ‘The Four Seasons’ ad nauseam because you only ever listen to Classic FM.
You didn’t really want that promotion.
Claiming that you’ve turned forty for the fourth time because it sounds less traumatic than forty-three.
You don’t possess two (at least) of your parents’ most irritating habits.
Having sex once a fortnight because you’re both too tired and it’s the only time there isn’t a child in the bed is merely a temporary blip.
You only saw Ladies in Lavender by accident.
You’ll write a bestseller soon and will look like Joanna Trollope, only even thinner.