Life goes on...

...long after the thrill of living has gone. That's how the song goes, isn't it? I can't stop thinking about it. Oh yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living has gone.

I'm not suicidal. I've just got that song on my brain.

It happens to me sometimes. It's a condition my sister Florence, currently on a permanent holiday in the Middle East making the occasional appearance in Hello! magazine, calls Song Tourettes. It has only one symptom - a propensity to burst into loud, inappropriate and often inaccurate song without any provocation or prior warning. And, contrary to what Stephen might think. loud sighs and eye rolling are not a cure. There is no cure. One day, you're a respectable woman buying a dozen pork chipolatas in the village butcher, the next you're singing I'm a dingle dangle scarecrow with a flippy floppy hat in front of the vicar's wife. The poor woman had only popped in for a pound of mince. It might have mattered less if I'd actually had the children with me at the time.

Beatrice has started in the nursery class of Toby's school. We are, thank-the-Lord-in-heaven-above, no longer expected to attend Toddlers. I think this is why my Song Tourettes has moved beyond the scarecrow song to obscure scraps of pop songs I don't even remember knowing. Although why the vicar's wife couldn't happen along when I'm busy thanking-the-Lord-in-heaven-above rather than singing inappropriate songs in the butcher's, I don't know.

This latest manifestation of my Song Tourettes is the most exciting thing that has happened to me in almost six months. All together now - Oh yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living has gone.