ALL in all, it was quite a week. Our eldest son, The Big Friendly Giant, was 25 – a quarter of a century old. It was also our 27th wedding anniversary. And, to cap it all, our second son, Jack, was graduating from Cambridge so there was a lot to celebrate.

I’d taken a week off work and we’d headed to Cambridge for a few days, with the graduation ceremony one of the proudest moments of our parenthood. There are plenty of ups and downs when you’re bringing up children so you have to smell the roses when you get the chance.

On the eve of the graduation, we were pottering round the shops. You know how it is – your wife is sifting through rack after rack of clothes and you’re tagging along behind, with your hands behind your back like the Duke of Edinburgh, pretending to show an interest.

Suddenly, my wife of 27 years turned round, sighed, and said to me: “Can you please go and find a chair.”

“Why?” I asked. “Are you not feeling well?” (I thought she must have come over a bit faint at the prices.) “I’m fine,” she said. “I just don’t want you following me.”

So that was it. I had to go out of Marks & Spencer and sit on a bench outside so as not to cramp her style.

And, as I sat there, I reflected on the fact that three decades ago, she hadn’t been able to keep her hands off me. She wanted to be with me all the time. We were inseparable. Not anymore. These days, it’s a different kind of relationship. She likes her space.

Later that night, we were lying on the bed in our hotel room, watching a programme called Don’t Tell The Bride, in which the man is left to make all the arrangements for a wedding, without his wife-to-be knowing.

Some bloke, whose partner was hoping for a traditional, fairytale wedding, had booked a register office for his wedding, along with a circus tent in a field behind a pub. Heaven help him.

In the midst of my boredom, I happened to move my hand relatively close to my wife’s leg. It was an involuntary movement and I can honestly say there was no ulterior motive, even though it was our wedding anniversary.

There was probably at least a six centimetre gap between by fingers and her leg but she said: “Can you take your hand away?”

“But I’m not even touching you,” I protested.

“You’re emitting heat,” she replied.

So there it is. Once, I was hot stuff – a smouldering object of desire. Now, I’m just an emitter of unwelcome heat.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

MY brother Paul was with his three-year-old daughter Isabella and she asked if she could have some candy floss.

“No, it’s bad for your teeth,” he replied.

Isabella then asked if she could have some popcorn.

“No, it’ll make you fat,” Paul replied.

Isabella sighed and said: “Well, can we do a deal – can I have some pop-candy?”

THANK you to Wendy Morris, of Darlington, who told me how her little ones, Owen and Phoebe, like to play pirates in “shark in festive waters”.

Whenever they get exasperated, they also say “For goodness snakes!” It’s so cute, the whole family use the phrase now.

AND thanks to Kizzy Riley, also of Darlington, for remembering how she’d told four-year-old Laila to be careful not to leave the door open because there was a draught.

Laila’s eyes opened wide and she ran excitedly to the door, convinced a giraffe was on the loose in the middle of Darlington.