Yes, dear reader. We have come over all grown up in the year 2013.
'Twas our lovely Belfast Blonde who has coerced us to this stage. After we had supped her delicious meal and drunk her Spanish Rioja and were suitably relaxed that the ever-increasing volume of our various conversations was about to succumb to lip-reading, she announced that she had "made a decision".
We all suddenly sat up and paid attention. You never know with Belfast Blonde, and it is always worth the wait. A bit like a new pair of shoes, but without the nagging conscience about the cost.
Was it something to do with the new man in her life?
Was it about her forthcoming exotic trip to Burma?
Did it have anything to do with her new bathroom (very snazzy, we all tried it out) with the swish fittings?
Had she signed us up to attend a proper literary festival?
Not at all.
We would - she announced, wine glass in hand, looking at us all very, very seriously - be reading a book of poetry for our next meeting!
And do you know what? Not one of us scoffed at her, nobody tut-tutted, and everyone applauded her choice. I even refrained from asking how thick the book in question was (answer: thin).
So, get us. Aren't we just the business now?
*blows fingertips, polishes nails*
Although I seem to recall something being mooted about selecting our favourite, reading it out loud, and doing a PowerPoint presentation.
Hopefully that was just the wine playing tricks on my memory.