Fifty. It’s less of a number, more of a boulder smacked down on the boulevard of life. I’ve always ignored landmark birthdays, but not this one. It’s simply too big.It felt like a good time to look back, since I’m finally in a place where I’m not scared to do so. Perhaps for the first time, I can see my life like a path through the forest. There have been painful, almost ruinous turns, but the way is clear.That said, I wasn’t keen to mark the occasion with a party — I am socially awkward and I no longer drink — so I planned a trip to Venice, my favourite city, with my husband and ten-year-old son instead. I spent the day, two weeks ago, mucking about on a gondola, and drinking hot chocolate through a straw.
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