WELCOME to the world. You took your time, but you were well worth the wait.

Born at 9.49pm on Sunday, October 23, and weighing 7lb 11oz, you are our first grandchild and, yes, I cried a bit when I first saw you. Sorry about that but you’ll soon find out that I’m a bit on the soppy side.

Okay, so you were 13 days overdue, but don’t worry. It was a bit frustrating, but I’ve spent most of my life waiting for women. You’ll be rushing around soon enough so I don’t blame you for staying in the warm as long as possible.

Oh, and don’t fret too much about letting me down in the “guess the baby’s weight” sweep. I’d have won £30 if you’d weighed in at 8lb 2oz. Seven ounces. That’s all you needed to put on. Not the best start to our relationship, but I’ll get over it - eventually.

Anyway, 26 years after I started writing this column, you’ve changed its title to Grandad at Large, so you’ve already made an impact. Just like your dad Christopher, Auntie Hannah, Uncle Jack, and Uncle Max, you’ll have to get used to me writing about you. Hope you don’t mind too much.

I have to confess that the idea of being a “grandad” came as a bit of a shock, but you’re three days old now and I already love you more than words can say. Chloë Barron is a nice name. It suits you. I love your “Supergirl” baby-grow. I’ve got my own Batman costume so we can play superheroes.

One of my great regrets is that being a dad to four great children passed in a blur. I was so busy working that I missed too much. I’m, therefore, determined to be the best grandad possible, so here’s a few promises to start with…

Whenever your mum and dad are tired and need a break, I’ll be available to take you for nice walks. We can go down by the river or to the seaside to build sandcastles.

As soon as you’re old enough, you can ride on my shoulders and steer me by pulling my ears. By pulling the right ear, I’ll turn right. A tug on the left ear will make me turn left. Both ears pulled at the same time will be the signal to go straight on. Who knows where we’ll end up?

I have exciting plans for Christmas, but I can’t say too much about those because they’re a secret between me and Santa. Let’s just say I’ll make sure he visits you, parks his sleigh on the roof of your house, and makes a proper list of all your wishes. Don’t forget, you’ll need to leave him a carrot for Rudolf.

Oh, and I’m going to buy you a fishing net so we can fish for pocket money in the “Magic Stream” at Saltburn – just like I did when I was little. There were thruppenny bits in the stream in my day, but I hear you can catch 50p pieces and even £1 coins now if you’re lucky.

It’s important to learn to swim so you, me and Grandma Heather (she’s going to take a while to get used to being called that, by the way) will go to the pool and splash down the slides.

I’ll be reading you lots of stories. Books are magical – you’ll love them. I’ll also help you with your homework if you need me to but I’m not very good at maths.

And I can’t wait to go to the pantomimes and go “boo” and “hiss” at the baddies. It’s a bit embarrassing doing that when you don’t have any children with you.

Most of all, Chloë, we’re going to be great friends, we’ll have lots of fun together, and I’ll be there whenever you need me. That’s all for now.

Lots of love always, Grandad xxx

The things great-grandmas say

WHILE we were waiting for Chloë’s arrival, I was watching Pointless with my Mum, who’s 85. The subject of dinosaurs came up and I said to her: “You’ll be good at this one because you were around at the same time as the dinosaurs, weren’t you?” “Yes but I don’t remember all their names,” she replied.

The things kids say

AT a meeting of Stockton Townswomen’s Guild, Heather Hughes told me how her grandchildren, Aris, three, and Athena, six, were discussing their Greek grandad’s death. Aris looked at his mum at bathtime and offered her words of comfort. “I don’t want you to be sad,” he said. “When I grow up, I’m going to be a doctor and fix Grandad.” “Well, you’ll have to dig him up first,” replied Athena.

...AND Marjorie Cooker, at the same meeting, remembered the time her daughter Patricia, ten at the time, announced that she wanted to be an air hostess when she grew up. Brother Stuart, nine, replied: “Well, you don’t need exams to cut hair.”