A shorter musing this week after the rambles about dad rock. I am thinking of getting a tattoo when I turn 40. Now I am not ‘pro’ 40th bucket lists. I find them a little bit cheesy. No judgement on those who do them, but personally I don’t like to see 40 as an age to tick things off a list as if it were on a par with the approach of the end of life. But a tattoo, well it’s such a stereotypical 40th thing to do and actually I am wondering whether to indulge myself. A few years

On 29th September 2016 I turned 39, and in the past few months I’ve come to realise something. Forty is, for many, a fearful turning point in life. ‘Oh no, forty! We must (insert random activity here) before we turn 40!’ women seem to cry. From tattoos to travelling, we all seem to feel that 40 is the tipping point before which we should have done a particular something. As if, when we wake on our 40th birthday, we spontaneously combust or turn to dust. Or perhaps both. But