It may be time to admit something - to myself more than anyone else.
I like detective stories.
It may not seem a groundbreaking thing to admit, but I've never really thought about it before.
The Jonathan Creek Easter special was on BBC1 last night. There I was, sitting in the dark with a coffee in hand, ready to figure out the crimes or be baffled trying. Then I realised... I was not just there to be entertained, I was looking forward to a challenge.
I was asked not long ago if I liked detective stories and I said no. Not at all. I've never been interested in them. But wait! Some of my favourite tv series - Bones, Supernatural, even House - aren't they all basically detective stories? When I was a teenager I used to read horror books and try to figure out what was going on before the hero/heroine did. Wasn't that too a little bit of detective work?
Even the books I liked reading when I was younger had mysteries running through them. The Sea of Adventure was one of my favourite Enid Blyton books for a long time. Philip Pullman's Sally Lockhart books. The Demon Headmaster by Gillian Cross.
Why haven't I noticed this before?
Thinking about it now, I took far too much pleasure in figuring out how the first murder in the Jonathan Creek special was done. I was - yes - even a little smug about it inside.
Perhaps I am a detective at heart.
Perhaps I have missed my true calling and I should be out there brandishing a magnifying glass and solving crimes!
Or maybe I just love the challenge of solving puzzles.
After all... it seems I've had enough practice.