Bear and I had married six weeks before I turned 40.

The wedding had been a pretty low key - a few friends at the Registry Office followed by sandwiches and snacks at the house where we were to live.

It was the house Bear had lived in with his first wife and family. She had remained there after their separation but when she told him she wanted to sell up and move somewhere smaller he decided to take out a mortgage and buy her share.

The last thing I wanted was to live there but my views were not considered and it never felt like home, especially since he made it clear that he didn't really want my children to live with us.

At 11 and 12 I felt that their place was with me and I put my foot down but that didn't  do much for anyone's happiness.

As I look back, it makes me think of the promise I made to myself when my mother married a man who didn't like me much either - and the feeling was mutual!

"I'll never do that to my children"  I decided - and there - I went and did it!

But it made me understand how she must have felt:  madly in love with a man and hoping that if she made him happy he would be willing to accept another man's child.

Looking back, I'm sure that, deep down, I knew I was heading for disaster but my heart over-ruled my head. In the early years of marriage I remember I cried an awful lot but as time passed I hardened and my love died.

When I realised that it was much more difficult for him to make me cry I knew that I was no longer in love with him. I walked out on him several times, but always on the spur of the moment and with nowhere to go - so I had to return.

The only time I actually 'moved out' was when he pushed CC while she was washing some dishes. Jay sprang to her defence shouting,

"Don't you push my sister!".

Bear turned on him and hit him.

CC and I tried to pull him away and then I rang Whale (who lived a few villages away) and we all piled into his car and went back to his small bungalow.

The children had their own beds there but I had to sleep on the settee. It was hardly an ideal situation and, for once, Bear seemed genuinely remorseful, so, believe it or not  - we went back.

The only real achievement was that now Bear knew that if he pushed me too far I really would go and he never laid a finger on any of us again - although he would still shout and threaten.

At the age of 40 I decided to learn to play the flute. The peripatetic music teachers were located in a sideroom off my classroom so there were often verious wind instruments lying about and I'd frequently sneak a 'blow' when no-one was around. But I could not raise a squeak from any flute.

Then, one day, the music teacher  let me try her flute with a solid silver mouthpiece and it made all the difference. After that, I found I was able to produce notes on the school flutes, so I bought one for myself and started lessons.

Despite taking exams up to grade six I never played well enough to join a group or a band but these lessons resulted in a close friendship with the music teacher and we still keep in touch and see each other two or three times a year when she comes to visit with her mum or other friends.

So my 'forties' certainly weren't that bad.