Today is a ‘go slow’ day in the Neat Freak household, but for once not of the toddler variety.

Last night was a rare night out in London catching up with old friends and colleagues where more than one drink was consumed.

Don’t get me wrong I didn’t hoik up my dress and dance on any tables or anything – in fact the ‘wildest’ thing I did was to almost snooze through my station on the train journey home – but I’m still feeling somewhat jaded today.

You know what it’s like when you have a rare taste of the social speed life used to move at – before the West Wing box set and an M&S dine-in deal became your idea of an ‘exciting’ evening. (Especially if you manage to stay awake until the end of the episode!)

I was never what you’d call a party animal, have always preferred a nice meal, few glasses of wine and a good chat to anything that might constitute wild clubbing. But still it’s amazing how a good night out can remind me just how much life has changed, and frankly just how many grey hairs I now have.

As (slightly younger) hubby loves to remind me, it’s not that long until the big FOUR ZERO… But what’s even scarier than the thought of turning 40 is how it doesn’t even feel like that big a deal these days.

So in the spirit of mums everywhere growing old disgracefully, here are the top ten signs that I’m officially, almost, middle-aged.

My love affair with Radio 2

Other ‘trendier’ mums I know listen to Radio 6 Music. I on the other hand love Graham Norton on a Saturday morning and Sara Cox’s Sounds of the ‘80s on a Saturday night. I knew my listening habits had hit the ‘grey factor’ when mini-me started singing the station’s jingle. She now frequently bursts into song with: ‘Bee bee ceee, radio tooooooo.’ Tragic.

The fact I’m turning into my mum

It used to really bug me when she’d say: ‘I’m just sooo exhausted.’ Now I do it too. At least I can still laugh at myself though – one of my mum’s best qualities.

Crying at reality TV

Supposedly you start sobbing at everything after having kids. And when not breaking down over the ever-breeding laundry pile, I can now be found tearing up over Frankie and Kevin performing on Strictly.

Coveting everything in John Lewis

Picking up some new cotbed sheets followed by coffee and cake in the JL eatery is now my idea of a happy Saturday afternoon. Mini-me concurs on all things café of course.

Checking sell-by dates in the supermarket

I really must stop this immediately. But isn’t it amazing how the dates at the back of the shelf differ?!

Checking for wrinkles

Counting them is becoming depressing. I find applying make-up in bad lighting works wonders.

Having hands like sandpaper

This is a weird one but I have a vivid early childhood memory of feeling how rough my mum’s hands were compared to my own and how much this surprised me. Now my hands are rough, dry and covered in nicks and scratches from washing them so much. Maybe mini-me has even noticed.

Turning off Geordie Shore

I’m a little ashamed to admit that I used to find watching this quite entertaining but now I just wonder how people could happily live in such a filthy house. I’d rather tune into Question Time.

Making sure mini-me is wearing a vest

It used to really annoy hubby when my mum-in-law would ask his vest status, well into his twenties I’d like to add. Now we ask each other if mini-me is layered up against the cold. At least we’re not wearing them ourselves I suppose.

Realising I fancy people young enough to be my son

Hubby informing me how old Aaron Ramsey was t’other day was a real low point. I do draw the line at Harry Styles though – hasn’t he heard of shampoo?