THEY say you’re never old to your old friends.

This is something that gives me immense joy as the years roll by and the first signs of age start to make themselves (very well) known.

I make THAT noise when I get up off the sofa sometimes, you know the “ooof” sound. Although, I could have always done this as I’m “vertically challenged” and getting off anything “normal-sized” is trickier for me than for most folk.

I creak sometimes in the morning, when I’m in the gym, when I’m gardening, when I’m out walking and when I do any number of other activities that require movement — sometimes even the most feeble amount of movement.

I don’t bounce back from hangovers like I used to when I was a fresh-faced 25-year-old. A couple of glasses of red and I have a terrible headache the next day and can’t face food. And there’s certainly no leaping out of bed the day after a big celebration, fresh as if I’d slept for eight hours. Oh no, the biggies can take up to two days to recover from (sadly, I’m clearly also very slow to learn and this hasn’t put me off in the slightest).

The thought of doing anything remotely exciting on a “school night” fills me with dread because I know I will be shattered when I arrive at Bolton News Towers the following day — and there’s nothing worse than being tired, right.

I’ve long talked about my “pensioner-style” hobbies. I love nothing more than spending a day in my garden, than going out walking or than watching Countryfile on a Sunday evening.

I’ve even started knitting — but this is partly because I’m one of those annoying people who just cannot sit still and this enables me to remain in one place, quietly, for more than 10 minutes when I’m at Casa Lavender.

I would like to stress at this point that I’m still a MASSIVE fan of lovely long, boozy days with my friends, fizzy wine, cocktails and partying till, well not so late these days, but you know what I mean.

And it was on one of these very days out that I realised, even though I’m a homeowner, news editor of The Bolton News, have sedate hobbies and am in my mid-30s, I’ll always be 17 to my pal — and so will she.

We’ve known each other since the heady days of sixth form college. Back when we were still raiding our parents’ booze cupboards before nights out and getting the bus home (yes, I’m a snob but this NEVER happens these days).

She’s gone on to become a (very wonderful) A&E doctor — and, bless her, my personal physician, something I’m sure that doesn’t irritate her at all — got married to a lovely chap, had two beautiful children and moved to a gorgeous house in the Peak District.

You all know what I’ve been up to, so I won’t bore you with that.

But as soon as we met up for our day of afternoon tea, Prosecco, shopping, more Prosecco, shopping, more Prosecco, sushi, more Prosecco and then some more Prosecco, we were gossiping like teenagers, giggling like teenagers and generally behaving like, you guessed it, teenagers.

It was a fantastic day out — and just goes to show, your past is a wonderful place, especially when it makes your present so happy. And lets you drink lots of Prosecco!