AS if by magic, I suddenly find myself amongst a new generation of grandads.

I have become a grandad and, one by one, my friends are becoming grandads.

We have had our children, worked our socks off to give them as nice a life as possible and now it is time for the next phase of the journey.

And I am discovering that conversations are very different from the way they used to be.

Take my mate Nigel, who also happens to have been our family hairdresser for the past 30 years or so. I popped in for a trim the other day and we were both full of excitement after the birth of our grandchildren. I’ve had Chloe and he’s had Levi and we’re both smitten.

From our days as single men, me and Nigel have enjoyed a bit of crack while he was cutting my hair. Up until now, the subjects have been dominated, in order of priority, by women, nights out, horse racing and football. Good old-fashioned lads’ talk.

Not anymore. It takes less time to cut my hair these days and we spent most of the time showing each other baby photos on our phones. I showed him loads of Chloe and he showed me loads of Levi.

“Hey, I can see you in him,” I said.

“Do you think so? Yeah, well, I reckon she’s got a look of you,” he replied.

“How much did she weigh?”

“Seven pounds 11.”

“Canny weight. Is she sleeping?”

“Aye, not too bad.”

The conversation went on to cover breast-feeding, nappy-changing, baby clothes, eye-colour, caesareans, epidurals, and trapped wind. We didn’t mention women, nights out, horse racing or football once.

We love being grandads - we’re just finding it a bit difficult to come to terms with the feeling that we’re getting old.

Nigel’s 56 and I’m a mere 54. It’s not that old in the great scheme of things. There’s plenty of life in the old dogs yet. But you can’t escape from the fact that being a “grandad” ages you overnight. You suddenly take on the air of being a grandad.

Nigel was out for a walk round Barnard Castle the other day. It was a blustery old day so he was wearing an overcoat, a muffler and a flat cap – classic grandad gear.

Feeling a bit peckish, he called in to the fish and chip shop and waited in the queue.

“Is it a pensioner’s portion, love?” the assistant called across to him.

“No it bloody isn’t,” shouted Grandad Nigel, stamping his foot and pulling his flat cap off in exasperation.

There’s a fish and chip shop in Barnard Castle that has one customer less.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

IT was a pleasure to speak to Stepping Stones group in Marton, Middlesbrough, last week – a really special group giving support for bereaved people. Here are some anecdotes from the members… CATH Teasdale remembered the time her late husband Dennis was a little boy at the end of the Second World War and he was sent to the Co-op in Billingham to buy his mother a banana.

After a conversation with the shop assistant, young Dennis shouted at the top of his voice: “Mam, do you prefer a small one or a nice large one?”

She had to leave the shop with embarrassment.

PAULINE Ashurst told how grandson Harry, aged nine, was off school with bronchitis and was looking out of the window at home.

“Well, it’s been a bad day,” he sighed. Trump’s President and now it’s going to snow.”

ON another occasion, Harry was asking questions about a word he’d overheard - homosexuality.

His Grandma gave her best explanation: “It’s when two men really like each other and want to spend all their time together.”

“I always knew there was something going on with that Ant and Dec,” came the reply.

ADA Caveney told of the time her son Stuart, a scout leader, was running a cubs’ group in Middlesbrough. It was Pancake Day and Stuart was showing how to flip a pancake.

One cub turned to Stuart’s son Adam and declared: “Your dad’s the best tosser I’ve ever known.”