Well, readers, it’s done. I’m packed and now I’m off.
Yes, my free holiday has come around at long last, and I’m determined to enjoy every sunkissed minute of it.
I can’t really believe it’s happening.
A few months ago, my friend won an luxury holiday to Cuba and asked five of her friends to come with her.
I’ve known Elaine for years and she’s now, officially, my favourite person in all this world.
I’m flying first class - me! – and I’m staying in a five-star resort - wicked, as my son would say.
I’m sure everyone is glad I’m getting this over and done with, I’ve rubbed it in quite a lot, but wouldn’t you?
This trip is all the sweeter considering that, had it not been for lady luck, I probably wouldn’t have been going on holiday at all this summer.
There was all that expense with my fridge last year, and I now have a new grandchild who’s wardrobe has been bought with every spare penny I have.
I can’t help it. Marks & Spencers should be kinder and not let me into the baby section more than five times a week.
However, away I go.
I’m actually a bit nervous. For the past God’s knows how many years, I’ve gone on holiday with my family.
This girls-trip malarkey is something I’ve really never done.
Even before I was married, I would prefer to go away with one friend rather than a group, or opt for a quieter retreat than a drink-fuelled fiesta.
I don’t even know two of the women going, but one has been described as “louder than loud”.
My family have made me feel too young and too old at the same time; my daughter thinks I’m an irresponsible granny, while my mother is perplexed that I’d want to go anywhere you can’t get to via an Urquharts tour bus.
The timing also could be better - I’m going to miss the men’s Wimbledon final for a start, and I would plead with Kate Middleton not to give birth until I’m back.
Apart from that, I’m looking forward to living the high-life, if just for 10 days.