Dogs. Teenagers. Fags.

The look I was sporting.

Half dog half womble is asleep on the bed. Sammy, the big gormless one is sitting breathing on my arm, with a sock in her mouth staring, willing me to let her come up. She is a great hairy labrador so the answer is no. They normall sleep in the kitchen but when the long suffering husband is away they are given a free pass to rampage. I don’t tell them. They just know.

This weekend we have had a house full of teenagers which may explain why I have behaved like one myself. Teenwolf and his pals age 16 and from down south Shona and Liz 19 & 20 respectively.

Yesterday was my dear chum Liz’s 40th birthday so she met 20 of her girlfriends for lunch. Or as it started off a screechathon. 70% of the women there were journalists and presenters so are all lacking the shy gene. Liz’s other friends from East Lothian were there too and the whole thing went off like a rocket.

Teenwolf dared to enter the den of 22 women as he had forgotten his keys an experience that may stay with him for a while. An hour later he was back to give me my keys back only to find me outside the bar/restaurant  in the company of 3 teenagers and a stand-up comic smoking a roll-up. First time I have smoked for about 5 years. I can see how hanging out with young folk makes you feel young – at the time. I have to say waking up this morning my roll-up coated mouth and prosecco soaked liver I am  feeling all of my 39 years. Ahem.

I got home about 9pm. The teenagers were just ramping up to go out for the night. Teenwolf and his pals to a party and the Southern based teenagers to Dragonfly and a show. As I slumped on the sofa with a cup of tea and a packet of biscuits I  listened as the music was turned off and the clomping of feet on the stairs announced they were off out. Upset? Annoyed?  Wishing I was young again? Nah. Just blissfully happy. A couch. A TV and a dog under each oxter – what a fabulous Saturday night.


Writer & broadcaster.

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