I’m hitting the big 
five-oh in fine style

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Today, I will be celebrating with a glass or two of sweet sherry. Possibly right after lunch, just as you should with an afternoon drinking habit.

It passes the time nicely before the school bus arrives or you have to dash off on the school run. Only joking. Honest. I am especially super-joking if you are a member of the local constabulary.

No, I will wait until the Young Master and Young Mistress are well a-bed, and then partake of a nice glass of red wine. Possibly two. I am a wee devil.

And the reason for this Faliraki-style celebrating?

This (sound the trumpets) is my 50th column. Yes, half a century. And if you are one of my small, but terribly loyal, following, I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with it.

Lord knows, it can’t have been easy. Like a drunken frog, the subject matter has hopped merrily from subject to subject. From chickens to dogs, vegetables, raised beds and more chickens, to rally cars, eggs, the Sochi Olympics, homemade hooch and even more chickens.

And not forgetting my lovely turkeys Vic, Queenie, Sally and Cilla, and the two (nameless) wee quail.

I like to think that I have offered value for money over the last 50 columns.

If you look at The Southern in its entirety, and count up its many, many pages, then look at how big (ie. small) my column is in relation to the rest of the paper, and consider the cost of the paper to buy, I must cost you about 0.5p a column, or perhaps even less.

I’m afraid I had an arts-based education and maths is sooooo not my strong point. Now, I can see you thinking: ‘Arts-based education? Did she have a governess? Was she educated abroad on some kind of rolling Grand Tour?’ No, no, no. I was just really rubbish at maths and so was encouraged to take subjects like languages, art, English and history.

I had a fascinating and enigmatic physics teacher, called Mr Peace, who told us gripping and appalling tales of what he experienced when testing water quality in Japanese POW camps at the end of the Second World War. He often pointed to interesting scars on the physics lab ceiling as he started an experiment, to show us what happened last time around.

Even that wasn’t enough to stop me failing at physics. All that maths. Yuk. Anyhoo, I will get over the disappointment of Not Being a Maths Genius and continue to write, if you will continue to read what I write.

As for the subject matter, I’m afraid it will probably still be quite random. I am taking snowboarder Billy Morgan’s misinterpreted statement of intent during the Sochi slopestyle, which means ‘go for it’, in a ‘with little regard for your personal safety’ way. Just Huck It.

So I sent off for a Billy-endorsed t-shirt. Do you like it? Hope my bum doesn’t look big in it. Get yours at: http://butta-wear.myshopify.com/products/just-huck-it-billy-morgan-t-shirt

I’m not on commission. Honest.