There appears to be some weird, even universal, calculation error hovering above me.

All because, Sally assures me – and anyone else she can get to listen – it is my 50th birthday in two weeks.

In the unlikely event she’s right, that likely means I am not as young as I think I am.

It also means I will be celebrating 30 years as a dairy farmer – and that, too, is inconceivable.

If not...