When I crossed into my forties a couple of friends were insistent that I do "a big thing" of clay pigeon shooting, go karting, overnighting in a rented a cottage, get all the guys together etc etc.

I point blank refused, I was going through a serious bout of panic/anxiety attacks at the time, and this was the last thing I needed. All I wanted was a few quiet drinks and a sit-in curry with some local pals. The amount of sulking that went on for weeks afterwards was quite something to behold.