Number 30

Everything hinges on the result of the test. Ideally, I will end up with an ambitious wishlist involving travelling the world and spending years mastering new activities. At worst, I might only have time to boil an egg and read half a newspaper.

OK ... here goes. Typing in that address has used up a good part of what I had left for a start. Right ...
... height in inches ... weight ... Do I expect to be married for most of my life? Well that depends on the result of the test. (Does it add or take away from lifespan? Presumably if you marry a young Moldavian woman when you're over 100, it could shorten/end it.)
What fitness quintile am I on? Well, I'm no oil-painting ... hang on ... no, it's exercise - I'll award myself a Q4 - might gain me an extra few years.
I reside in ... none of the US states you can choose from. I reside in don't know. Is that good or bad?
The driver of the automobile I most frequently travel in is sometimes/never/don't know drunk. This is getting bizarre.
OK, so ... none of the ten biggest stress-causing life events have happened to me in the last year, for which I'm very grateful.
I'm guessing I'm outside the 15% least depressed of the population, and I regularly wear a seatbelt on the way to my non-manual job, where I often have five food-types for lunch, which is less than ten per cent fat - that's a high-scoring flurry to finish with.

And I will live to ... (press button - camera zooms in on my sweaty, twitching face for twenty seconds) ... 86.64 years!

Well, I'm happy with that, although it will be a crushing blow to all future young Moldavian women, and I can only apologize to them. So that gives me another 36 years to fit in the five things which I will now start thinking about. Strangely, it's very close to my (living) dad's age now. Hope he's OK.