A friend was telling me the other day about her bucket list – 57 things to do in her 57th year. It got me thinking what mine would be, and I realised something that surprised me – I don’t have one. I can’t easily think of half a dozen things I seriously want to do, let alone 57. So have I led an amazingly adventurous life? Not particularly. The things I’ve wanted to do – riding on a beach, walking with hawks, going to Glastonbury etc, were mainly achievable and mainly done. So maybe I’m just really dull? Maybe. But it’s also possible that I simply take pleasure in life as it happens to me.