I suppose I should start this week by offering my congratulations.
First up to Fleetwood Town – after all, Micky Mellon’s men have, despite their best efforts to delay matters, finally won promotion to the Football League - even if they did manage it without kicking a ball.
But that’s not, despite some accusations within Gazette Towers that I’ve ‘gone Cod’, what I’m on about.
No, my best wishes are reserved for a number of friends who have, recently, taken the plunge and got themselves engaged.
Maybe it’s something to do with the spring weather, or, maybe it’s just my age, but this certainly seems to be the season to get hitched – although I’m less than happy about the couple who’ve chosen to do it slap bang in the middle of Saturday’s Lancashire derby.
It seems a very long time ago, now, that I took that big step and popped the question to the woman who would become My Good Wife.
It’s a nerve racking time - picking the ring, trying to keep everything a secret and choosing that perfect moment.
I’ll admit my proposal wasn’t the most romantic - thanks in part to some in-laws-to-be, who were desperate to spill the beans.
I did go down on one knee (the one which doesn’t ache thanks to an old football wound) and she did say yes at the first time of asking – much to my relief.
Anyhow, several years have passed and several children have arrived since then.
But that doesn’t mean all the wedding business is behind us.
Last week we finally got round to sorting and putting on display our wedding and honeymoon pictures.
So, on a drizzly bank holiday, I was dispatched to find a suitable frame – a task far too important to be entrusted to me.
Thankfully, on arrival at the store, I had a choice of one and, when I arrived home, I found a fantastic job had been done sorting and selecting those precious memories.
So, into the frame they went and, after some tense negotiations, in which I agreed to go with My Good Wife’s arrangement, it was all looking rather lovely.
So lovely, in fact, I was given instructions to put the back on to the frame, sealing our memories in forever.
My fingers stinging from pushing back the 40 tiny clips of intense pain, I finally managed to insert the backing and gave one final push to make sure everything was in place.
Then, and only then, did I hear the unmistakable sound of cracking glass.
Gutted does not even come close to describe the feeling, but, with a little imagination, and a raid on the kitchen decor, everything turned out ok.
And wonderful it looks too.
I can only wish my friends and colleagues about to get married will have the same happy memories in years to come.
Oh, and when it comes to putting those memories on show, please, take more care than I did!