Wheeling my new 'made-for-cobblestones-can-turn-into-a-backpack, not-very-Oralia' Osprey bag through the airport to the connecting train station with my two besties from high school, Emerson and Anaiah, I couldn't help but smile looking at us. If our teenage selves could see us now. We said we'd always be friends, and we've made it to 50.

We also said we'd go to Italy for our 30ths, and didn't make it, so it was going to be our 40ths, but then life happened. There was no way we were missing 2025. We have all turned 50 and it is a Jubilee year.

Just when I think I can't stand myself for another second, we roll into Milano Centrale and I can squash my feelings back into their box, aided by the sight of not one but two swaggering police officers in tight polo shirts. Thank God for Italy. Seriously.