As I fly towards my dotage at the speed of light, I seem to have gathered another anniversary of my emergence on this planet. All it seems to bring these days is another ache or pain somewhere new which seems an awful price to pay for a few birthday cards. Such is life (or my one appears to be).

Then again, I'm living the dream and have been for a very long time, so perhaps I shouldn't complain.

I went to see Philomena, starring Judy Dench and Steve Coogan, based upon the book written by Martin Sixsmith about an Irishwoman's search for her son who was taken from her when he was a toddler and adopted by some Americans in about 1956. It was very good, some funnies and lots of sadness - a chick flick.

Judy Dench was excellent as always and much to my surprise, so was Coogan as journalist/author Sixthsmith who was originally reluctant to get involved with this mad Irishwoman. For those who don't know the story, I won't spoil it other than to suggest you go and see it.