Touched....

....well, I am. And if I needed a justification for blogging, this is it. Put your problem out there and wisdom, humour and support flood in.

Thank you all so much.

As for the effect......

"Beth," I bleat, up the stairs, as viciously loud music pours downwards, taking my words with them in a slide tackle round about the seventh step. "Other bloggers have come up with really good advice."

I track her down. It doesn't take long. All I have to do is follow the trail of used facial tissues and blobs of mascara and there she is, head slightly on one side as she admires herself, Mary Poppins-like, in the bathroom mirror.

"Don't you think my hair's shiny?" she says.

"Very." I say. "Look, about this dying business. You remember all those tips I had. Well, there are more. They're really interesting. Take ageing. Did you know -"

"The thing is," she says, pencilling her eyes, a corner of the mirror and the toothpaste with eyeliner, "I'm not worried about it any more."

"You're not?"

"No. It just lifted about half way through art and disappeared. I feel fine."

She turns a radiant face towards me. "Can you book me on a riding course over Christmas, to make up for all the lessons I've missed with my broken arm."

I should, of course, be thrilled for her. And it is a relief. But would it be very, very mean of me to wish her just a small frisson of terror at around 3 a.m. - like the rest of us?