Growing Old Disgracefully

Of the many signs of growing old, one I was not familiar with until this weekend was the experience of attending a 21st birthday party where the celebration was in honour of a very close friend's child.

A close friend who happens to be almost exactly the same age as me. A close friend who, yes, has a 21-year old daughter. That must make me pretty old!

On the plus side, my Friday night plans earned me a bit of kudos with the younger members of my work team. I'm pretty sure I could have sold tickets to a few of them.

Also on the plus side, I could honestly put my hand-on-heart and say I actually did recognise some of the music the DJ was playing. It didn't even seem too loud.

Still down with the kids! Umm, or something like that.

On the slightly disgraceful side, when faced with a sly 'anyone caught your eye?' question from the wife - who had cunningly waited until the booze was clearly seeping into my veins - my answer was honest enough to be credible, but needed a degree of obfuscation to remove the risk of a knee to the groin.

Being a 21st there was of course more boozing going on than the BMA would approve of, and some people took it worse than others.

None more so than the guy who lapsed into incoherence; had to be carried from the club; assisted into a taxi (but only after being handed a plastic bag at the insistence of the driver); and was last seen vomiting from the open cab window, as it weaved it's way through the traffic on Glasgow's party central - Sauchiehall Street.

Par for the course if you're an under-ager who outsmarted the bouncers.

Slightly embarrassing if you're a 20-something living it large with your mates.

When you happen to be aforementioned very close friend and father of the birthday girl, that's got to be a Medal of Honour for growing old disgracefully.