I met my old lover on the street last night,she seemed so glad to see me I just smiled and we talked about some old times and we drank ourselves some beers

So, I was in the Barbers last week and when he had finished the nice Middle-Eastern gentleman asked me if I was due a Concession Rate. For what I thought. Being overweight? Being a fan of Ayr United and Sunderland? Watching Grey's Anatomy?

But no, apparently he thought I was old enough to qualify for OAP Rates. Shocked! I nearly left without my Zimmer Frame. That's the last time he gets a 50p tip


And so it dawned on me that I was getting old. I cannot even blame the grey hair. I have had that since my Thirties (that's when I was in my Thirties not the 1930s). Marriage, children, supporting aforementioned football teams is enough to turn Kojak grey but I told myself it made me look dignified, although the curly perm didn't help

When I started to give the matter some thought I discovered that all the signs were there. I stopped listening to Radio 1 years ago but now I have even moved on from Radio 2 to Smooth Radio where Michael Buble is considered raunchy. There is a show on in the morning where they play songs from a particular year gone by and you have to guess the year. I find the older the year the easier to remember. Music from the 60s and 70s I recognise immediately but the 90' and 2000s are a bit of a blur musically speaking.

If I hear 'Needles and Pins' by the Searchers I think...1964  that's the song that was playing when Sandra knocked me back at the Primary School Disco......'I Heard it Through the Grapevine'-Marvin Gaye 1969..that's the song that was playing when Morag knocked me back at the Secondary School disco.....'I'm Still Waiting' (oddly appropriate)--Dianna Ross 1971...that's the song that was playing when Linda knocked me back at the Cement Works Disco...'Telegram Sam'--T.Rex 1972..that's the song that was playing when Linda knocked me back at the Cement Works Disco....'Tie a Yellow Ribbon'--Dawn 1973..that's the song that was number 1 when Sunderland won the FA Cup and I think Linda may have knocked me back at the Cement Works Disco

Football was proper football back in those days. None of your celebrity nonsense. Back then it was all about the football. True professionals who only cared about the game. You never read any bad press for stars like George Best, Stan Bowles or Frank Worthington. True paragons of virtue all of them and they could all play a bit. My favourite quote attributed to Georgie was "I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered." Ah, if only JT had a modicum of Mr Best's style

As you get older you start talking about the price of everyday items as well. A Mars Bar....45p...that's nearly 10 Shillings in real money..imagine giving a ten bob note for a bar of chocolate  and nowadays people save by putting £1 coins in jars. I remember when I was young collecting Ship Halfpennies.....boy, that was fun

When I was babysitting last week I did take my slippers with me which does not do a lot for my case but I know I cannot be that old after all Methusela was at least two years above me at school. I have noticed however that people start calling me 'Sir' which never used to happen and at the football the other week a young chap called me 'auld yin'. I nearly boxed the young whippersnapper's ears

Also nearly every new movie or TV programme I read about these days is a remake of one from the 60s or 70s. I read they are currently doing a remake of The Sweeney which I really liked first time around and which obviously now has Ray Winstone in it. I cannot say I am looking forward to that and a new version of Charlie's Angels has been cancelled after one series. It was bad enough the first time round without subjecting us to it again. I did watch the recent Hawaii Five-O series but I thought the best thing about it was that they kept the original signature tune, although the scenery really made me want to visit Hawaii

I believe there is yet hope for me. I have not as yet started visiting local Garden Centres or joined the nearest Bowling Club and I still do not watch Bargain Hunt. I have noticed that my moniker to the outside world has now changed. For years I have been known as 'Den's Dad' or 'Sean's Dad' or 'Dean's Dad' but now I have progressed to 'Ben's Grandpa'. Now that I can definitely live with.

I leave you this week with my Top 10 Songs about growing old

1. The Way We Were...............Barbara Streisand
2. (Just Like) Starting Over........John Lennon
3. Old Man...............................Neil Young
4. Going Back...........................Dusty Springfield
5. All Things Must Pass.............George Harrison
6. It Was A Very Good Year....Frank Sinatra
7. Forever Young......................Bob Dylan
8. When You Were Young........The Killers
9. Glory Days...........................Bruce Springsteen
10 Old Friends.........................Simon and Garfunkel

Now where did I leave my hot water bottle?

An angel whispers my name,but the message relayed is the same:“Wait till tomorrow,you'll be fine."

So Young Ben had his first real injury last week. Fortunately just a bump on the head and a cut lip so nothing too serious unless you happen to be Glen Campbell in True Grit

He has just recently started walking and uses his home as a bit of a race track pushing anything he can around the place at a great rate of knots but the corner in the hall is a bit of a hairpin bend and can prove tricky in the wet


It reminded me that when my kids were young we seemed to have a season ticket for the local A & E. They seemed to be always crashing bikes or falling out of trees or mistiming their parachute landings. I recall the staff would put their mother and I in separate rooms (always a good idea anyway) and check our stories to make sure I had not thrown them out of a tree (as if I could have got up there in the first place)

When Ben's Dad and I were discussing Ben's injury he reminded me of the time he hurt his arm playing footie with me at the park. He was in goal and I was taking a penalty. I gave it some extreme 'welly' but somehow he managed to get his wrist to it which caused him some discomfort. I did slot home the rebound as he writhed about in agony (it was a crucial point of our game) In any case his arm was not broken and personally I think the sling made him a hit with the girls at school anyway. They don't teach that kind of parenting in books. Character building is what my dad would have called it although obviously I would not let my dad take such an important penalty

I recall the first time Ben's Dad had to have stitches. He had an altercation with a young lady (definitely a sign of times to follow), but this particular young lady was older and bigger than he was and pushed him over and he split the back of his head open on the pavement. As all the king's horses and all the king's men were otherwise engaged I took him to hospital where they stitched his head. I know he strongly disagrees but I still feel those stitches hurt me more than they hurt him


My eldest son saved his major injury for his teens when in his wisdom, he and his friends decided to go to a party in Kilwinning. Kilwinning is the kind of place where your sister and your wife are one and the same person and Duelling Banjos is considered highbrow. Anyway he happened to say the wrong thing like"Hello" and ended up with severe bruising and a broken arm. The silver lining was that he has never been back to Kilwinning

My youngest son managed to break his arm jumping over a settee in his Gran's house. His landing technique was poor despite hours of practice. I recall his uncle was being married the next day and we have a photo of my sons and I resplendent in our kilts complete with 'stookie' on his arm

He saved his major injury until much later when he had a disagreement with a fence soon after passing his Driving Test. I recall arriving at the scene, seeing the state of the car and then seeing my son in the back of the ambulance with what seemed to be blood everywhere. I think it was the worst moment of my life. Fortunately it looked much worse than it was and he escaped with stitches to his arm and a good story to tell

In my own childhood I recall an instance when I was fairly young and I was attempting to reach something at high level in a friend's garage. There were some metal buckets handy and obviously the logical thing to do was balance the large bucket on top of the small one. In the words of my late father "I came a cropper" and managed to smash my nose of the rim of one of the aforementioned buckets. Stitches in your nose is never a good look but when the doctor decides to tie them off in a bow you end up like Clarence The Cross-Eyed Lion after a day or two

In my mid teens I went on a school trip to Switzerland. In our hotel they decided to house the boys and girls in different wings of the hotel separated by a common room and patrols akin to The Berlin Wall. Undeterred and probably under the influence of a bottle of local wine (Chateau Toblerone 1968) I managed to sneak into the room of a girl with whom I was smitten. She was less than thrilled and promptly ushered me out of the window. This was not a major problem as the room was on the ground floor but alas in the dark I failed to spots the stairs leading down to the cellar as I leaped (I may have been pushed) into the unknown.

It was not until the next day when I had problems putting on my shoe that it was discovered I had broken my ankle. I must say Swiss Hospitals are first class and the doctor placed a pin in my ankle to be removed once the bone had healed. The scar left by the Swiss was barely visible (I know they have a high reputation for knives and cuckoo clocks) but when they opened me up in Scotland some time later to remove the metal pin they left a scar which would have made Al Pacino proud had he made the movie 'Scarfoot'

I had to stay behind in hospital in Switzerland as they had my foot in a raised harness rather than plaster and one teacher had to stay to make the journey home with me when I was ready. Drawing the shortest of short straws I was left with Mr Bone who strangely taught Chemistry and Religious Education and had the somewhat irreverent nickname of 'Jesus' Bone. I recall we used to sing a song about him to the tune of 'Casey Jones' which under Blasphemy Laws I would prefer not to repeat here suffice to say there was mention of a Biblical Express.

The long trip home by rail and road and sea in the company of 'Je.....' sorry Mr Bone convinced me never to drink wine again and to stay away from girls' bedrooms

I will be passing some of this wisdom on to Young Ben. He is too young for wine anyway. After all he is not French.

Hopefully when he makes his first leap from a tree I will be there to cushion his fall. I believe that is what Grandpas are for

I catch him when he's strayin' like any brother would, man turns his back on his family well he just aint no good

So today is my brother’s birthday. As Elton says he is ‘older than me’. I guess whether you are 10, 20 or 50+ your big brother is always your big brother and someone you look up to.

Growing up in Ayr in the 60s I was fortunate to have two older brothers that ticked all the boxes. They wore cool clothes, they had cool haircuts, they listened to cool music, but most importantly they had cool girlfriends

Also they were seldom embarrassed (or they hid it well) to have their little brother tagging along and hanging on their every word.

My eldest brother went over to the dark side for a while and started supporting Kilmarnock but my other brother was an Ayr United fan like myself and would often drive to away games with his pals and would take me with him.

Since rugby was the sport of choice at Ayr Academy and we had arrived in Ayr after a spell in South Africa my brother was christened ‘Springer’ by his mates. His close friends were not so fortunate. Fraser, who I still see at Ayr games, broke his leg and walked with a limp for a while. He was labelled with ‘Chester’ after the rather hapless character in Gunsmoke, who seemed to spend most of his time saying “I’m a-comin’ Mr Dillon” and Alan who had somewhat large feet  was known as ‘Froggy’. I remember seeing him years later when we were both with our families and I could not remember his real name but could not bring myself to call a 40 year old man ‘Froggy’ in front of his wife and children

Anyway I recall on one of our away days to see Ayr against the mighty East Stirling our left winger (in those days we had left wingers) Arthur Patterson had an altercation with a fan. Whilst taking a throw-in Athur was manhandled from behind by a fan and took exception to this. This was particularly out of character for Arthur who was such a gentleman you wouldn’t have been surprised if he wore a tie over his strip. He even had his own song as the fans would sing (to the tune of Flipper)…”they call him Arthur, Arthur, faster than lightning………..”. This incident and a great 2-0 victory gave us plenty to talk about on our way home (or in my case listen to and add the odd grunt of agreement from time to time)

My brother always kept a watchful eye over me. I recall one time he noticed something I had written on a billboard not far from our home and politely suggested that I remove it before my father happened to see it. As was the norm I took his advice and acted swiftly to erase my misdemeanour

I  remember one time when I was about 14 or 15 and I was having a party at my house. It was one of those parties where there were the exact same number of girls and boys invited. Well, two of the girls didn’t turn up and obviously one of them was supposed to be my partner for the evening. My brother took me in my dad’s car and drove round half of Ayr till we found them (sounds a bit creepy and sad now). There had been some misunderstanding (or a better offer) and they were only too pleased to be driven to the party in a car with my brother. I would like to say that was the start of a long relationship but alas even my cool brother could not swing that one for me

In 1977 I enjoyed my finest ever night at a football match when accompanied by my brothers and the aforementioned Fraser we witnessed Scotland beat Wales 2-0 in Liverpool and had a rare old celebration afterwards. By that time I was in my twenties but like my sons today, my brothers and I always had a great time when we got together

We also saw Scotland draw 1-1 with Wales in Cardiff in 1985 but the news of the death of Jock Stein that night meant there were no celebrations on that occasion

Wales have been drawn in the same section as Scotland in the Qualifying Groups for the next World Cup. Maybe we will have another chance to enjoy a trip down there once again before we all get too old for it

Given that my brother’s birthday is on the 13^th I leave you this week with a Top 13 Songs which remind me of growing up in Ayr and listening to his musical choices

1. Return To Sender……………………….Elvis Presley
2. I Close My Eyes And Count To Ten……Dusty Springfield
3. Another Saturday Night…………………..Sam Cooke
4. It’s All Over Now……………………….The Rolling Stones
5. If I Fell…………………………………...The Beatles
6. It’s Over…………………………………..Roy Orbison
7. Halfway To Paradise………………………Billy Fury
8. Everyday…………………………………..Buddy Holly
9. Out Of Time………………………………Chris Farlowe
10. As Usual…………………………………..Brenda Lee
11. Walkin’ Back To Happiness………………Helen Shapiro
12. Hey, That’s No Way To Say Goodbye……Leonard Cohen
13. Pourquoi Cet Amour………………………Johnny Hallyday

Most of these artists have gone on to also be favourites of mine, with perhaps the exception of Monsieur Hallyday, whose Gallic charm somewhat escapes me but then I have never been as keen a Francophile as my brother. Notwithstanding I do always cheer them on against England (actually I cheer almost anyone on against England) and Zinedine Zidane is the finest footballer I have ever seen live

Anyway Bon Anniversaire mon frere. Meilleurs voeux! A Bientot!

ps I was sad to read of the death of Joe Frazier this week. I have never been a great fan of boxing but back in the days of Ali, Smokin' Joe, Norton and Foreman being Heavyweight Champion of the world had a certain aura to it and they commanded a respect which is sadly lacking in the fighters of today

You made me forget myself, I thought I was someone else, someone good

So Young Ben and I spent a full day together yesterday whilst his mum and dad were otherwise engaged. This meant I had to forego the excitement of my team Ayr United losing 1-0 at home to Morton so double bonus there.

After a trip to the park in the morning which tired out his old grandpa (I really should have had a nap when he did but it is quite difficult pushing a buggie whilst asleep and he decided to wait until we were homeward bound before nodding off) we settled down in the afternoon to work through the vast array of toys he received for his birthday
He has a rocking horse which is actually a rocking caterpillar, a bouncy horse which may be a zebra and a new bike which is such an amazing contraption that it doubles as a buggie, chariot, small condo, taxi, time machine and Optimus Prime

Unfortunately I am too big for any of these so we played with his Animuddles




These are a triumvirate of duck, cow and sheep. When you have the correct top and bottom halves together they make the appropriate sounds. However if you happen to join the bottom half of Mr Duck with the top half of Mr Cow you hear a strange combined quacking and mooing sound. I must admit I find these strange hybrids somewhat disconcerting






Ben has a habit, which reflects how much time his mum and dad spend on their mobile phones, of using whatever toy is at hand as a phone. It is not uncommon to see him discussing the events of the day with a hippo or a hammer pressed to his ear. I should stress here that this is a plastic hammer as unless Ben takes his DIY skills from his mum's side of the family he would not know what to do with a hammer, other than smash things that he should not be smashing

Then came the big indoor footie match. Ben won the toss and had first pick and immediately went for his musical Octopus who proved to be an outstanding goalkeeper given his additional limbs. My first pick was Tigger whose back flips although hugely entertaining failed to produce much of an end result. My major mistake however was to pair the Penguins in my central midfield. Their lack of mobility proved costly as Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck in Ben's midfield ran rings round them and provided a constant supply of chances to the deadly Barney up front

By the time Mr Oinking Pig had been sent off for my team for foul and abusive grunting it was all over and we adjourned for juice and biscuits. I claimed that I lost 4-2 but Ben said the score was 37-1 which may have been closer to the truth. I am looking to sign Buzz Lightyear and Mr Potato Head before our next encounter

The Penguins have been signed up by Ayr United. Despite their obvious limitations they will be a vast improvement on our present incumbents in centre midfield




My favourite toy of Ben's at the moment is his Elephant Musical Jungle Ball Shoot Chute Thing although I doubt that is how Fisher Price market it. Basically the balls shoot out the hole in the top and then run down the chute into the elephant's trunk and the process is repeated. However Ben has discovered that if you drop anything small enough (Mr Hippo does not fit) down the funnel it will come popping back up again. He now does this with his dummy and tries to catch it in his mouth as it shoots out the top again. I am convinced that if this was an Olympic Sport Ben would win Gold in London next year although obviously by that time he would be far too old for a dummy

As we settled down on the couch to read about Spot's Noisy Day and Young Ben pressed a bus to his ear and called his mum, I knew that I would sleep well that night and was already looking forward to our next adventure