FEW of us like to think that, one day, our life will come to an end. But it happens to all of us. Yet, if scientists knuckle down, some may have longer than others.

Boffins are constantly beavering away in an attempt to discover why some of us live longer, in the hope of giving people a few extra years.

Now a team from a top American university has identified eight factors which they say are the keys to living longer.

Keen to find out whether I'll make it to Christmas, I thought I'd compare my life with their eight pointers to longevity.

Drinking moderately: Well, that's me. Maybe as a student I overdid it a little, and have been known to wake up on a strange floor in strange house (though never in a strange town or country) the morning after the night before. But I was never a serious candidate for The Priory. As many parents know, having children pulls the plug on your alcohol intake.

Whereas before, my husband and I would sup as much as we wanted - so what if we fell asleep on the sofa? - nowadays we have a half-hour debate as to whether it would be irresponsible to open a second bottle of wine. By the time we've decided, we're stone cold sober and ready for bed.

No smoking: That's me too - horrible habit, never seen the appeal.

Having a stable marriage: Afraid I can't own up to this one. Mine is about as stable as Vesuvius in Roman times. Sad to say it's going the same way as Nicole Kidman's. Only I don't think I'll be in line for the sort of settlement she's likely to receive. She'll see several million winging its way into her bank account. If I'm lucky I might get the eight-year-old MFI tallboy and the pound shop mug tree.

Taking exercise: Another minus. I did go to the gym recently, but it was full of Lara Croft lookalikes, each with the energy level of a whippet on speed.

After three moves I couldn't keep up and spent half the class pretending to tie my shoelaces while desperately trying to get my breath back.

Maintaining the right weight: If I knew what that was I could answer this one. For my height it's probably about eight stones and, at a guess, I'd say I was slightly over. Seriously though, if the right weight was 16 stones I'd have no trouble maintaining it.

Receiving a good education: Well, I didn't go to Oxford, Cambridge or Harvard but I suppose for a large comprehensive school in a northern town, mine wasn't bad.

I wouldn't say it stood me in particularly good stead for modern day life, however. I still work in feet and inches and have a confirmed allergy to all things computerised.

Having the ability to look on the bright side of life: This, I definitely have not got. I am one of life's born pessimists. Even when something great happens to me, I immediately see the down side. The house next door is for sale - again - and all I can foresee for the future is a hive of students who throw 24-hour-wrap-around parties. I'm poised to put ours in the market just as soon as they move in.

Not suffering depressive illness: Surely this goes hand-in-hand with the above. While I haven't been medically diagnosed, I do suffer black moods, extreme anxiety and other problems that irritate my happy-go-lucky husband no end. He knows better than to ask me if I've had a nice day when I get home from work or whether the children have been good while he's been out. His most commonly-used greeting is: "What's the matter with you? You've got a face as long as the M6".

Three out of eight. That's not a very healthy outlook.

It appears I've got a couple of years at the most. I'd better think about a will... "To anyone who wants them, a once-used, mint-condition pair of training shoes.

"To my husband, my beloved grim reaper duvet cover..."