I'm getting married.
I know. Insert 'oldest-bride-in-the-village' joke here or remind me that second time around is the very definition of hope over experience.
Either way, the first thing I've decided is everything I don't want for my 'big day out'. Firstly, that means it's not a 'big day out'.
No wedding showcase in a regional hotel ballroom will be graced by my presence (or money). We won't be having an ice-cream van, doves in a cage or a troupe of Irish dancers.
I won't be needing hair and make up "rehearsals" (really, do people do that?); my hairdresser could do my mop in her sleep at this stage, and there'll be no 10-month body-beautiful programme in the local salon - yes, it's a thing.
Having secured a date based solely on our array of children being in the country at the same time, a cosy city centre venue and someone to quickly marry us - and this folks is harder than you might imagine, given the HSE, whose staff act as registrars, only work Monday to Friday - the rest really is fluff and nonsense, is it not?
I'll probably wear something nice, hired not bought, possibly even an off-off white dress; there'll be something to eat for those that trouble themselves to come along, and honestly, after that, the only thing I'm thinking about is that it doesn't feel too, well, weddingy.
There'll be no three-day hen parties to Barcelona, nor will anybody be required to take time off work and it'll be taxis home afterwards rather than shelling out for a hotel.
Now, what's the opposite of Bridezilla?
If you're wedded to rules, don't be upset at divorce
One place, clearly, we won't be getting married in is a church.
Which is fine, because it kind of ruins the buzz to be frowned upon as adulterous sinners while you're having a lovely time out with your friends. Also, because Mother Church's rules are so intransigent with actual, lived, real life.
Over the water, where we used to consider the Church of England as one step to heathenism, the Crown Nominations Commission, which acts as a bridge between church and state, has suggested the privilege to marry should be removed from churches which refuse to conduct same-sex ceremonies.
I disagree. Honestly, I do.
Any club has a perfect right to set down whatever rules it likes for its members. The fact its membership is dwindling while the rules remain obdurate and unyielding, is none of our business.
The Catholic Church doesn't want married priests, gay (or to use the parlance, 'intrinsically disordered') parishioners or women of any kind conducting its ceremonies.
That's fine. But it shouldn't then wonder why people, in all their glorious complexity, imperfection and frailty don't continue to unquestioningly follow its rigorous standards.
And certainly not when it's a case of 'Do as we say, not as we do'.
Am I too much of a spacer even for Nasa?
Finally! My childhood dream job has come up - and I can't even apply for it.
Nasa is seeking astronauts for the next moon mission. Tragically I'm old enough (barely) to remember the last one, so reckon I'm out on that score alone.
Also, I lack the required master's degree in science or engineering. And I don't have 20/20 vision any more.
The rules also state I must fit into their regulation spacesuits. Well, they look pretty massive, but white is a bad colour on me. And finally, I'm not American, although some people consider me a bit of a space cadet.
After receiving 18,000 applications on the last round, you can't blame them for being picky this time.
And yet it still doesn't seem as unnerving as applying to 'Operation Transformation'.