Ah, one is not enough! I've never regretted doing anything in my life (well, maybe that fifth Tequila slammer) but regret not doing things more often... My hour would be the one I spent with my first love, Paul. We had to split in 1978 - his mother did not like me, can't think why - and accidentally met up again in September 1982. We spent about an hour together, reliving old times, and discovered that we still felt the same about each other. We parted, promising to get in touch later that month. Within a week, he was dead, drowned in a windsurfing accident. The hour we spent was just unforgettable, and all too short. In the words of a sports manufacurer - just do it.

Liz the Squeak