FORTUNATELY, I’ve made it this far through the highly-pressurised ordeal of parenthood without it taking too much of a toll on my health, even though my bank balance is on constant life-support.

However, my old mate Nigel Dowson – larger-than-life Cockfield character, Darlington hairdresser, fundraiser, and all round good bloke – has been in need of some NHS attention lately.

That big heart of his had been giving him a few problems so he had an operation to open up an artery and now he’s on a rehabilitation programme to get back to full fitness.

He’s been telling me how it’s been doing him the world of good and he’s full of appreciation for the first-class care he’s been receiving. That said, I couldn’t help being tickled when he told me about a rehab session, which included treadmill work, dietary advice, and then a relaxation exercise.

The nurse explained to the all-male group that she was going to turn the lights down and she wanted them to close their eyes and imagine they were walking in a lovely forest.

“Just think of a cool breeze blowing through the trees and the leaves rustling,” she said. “And then you come to a clearing with a river flowing through it – I want you to lie on the grass and listen to the water lapping over the rocks. Keep those thoughts in your mind and relax.”

Those who know Nigel will testify that he’s not much good at keeping still. After a few minutes, the lights came back on and the nurse asked if they’d found the exercise relaxing. There was shuffling of feet, but no one said a word. The nurse persisted, saying she’d really appreciate some feedback.

Nigel is also known for his honesty and he was the first one to speak up: “Well, I thought it was a complete waste of time.”

A little taken aback by his bluntness, the nurse wanted to know why.

“Well, it was just a bit dull,” replied Nigel, before adding: “I’ll be honest, after 30 seconds, I was in the bath, making love to Demi Moore!”

The silence broken, the fella next to Nigel piped up: “Yeah, and I was thinking about Newcastle winning the FA Cup.”

It was at that point that the nurse momentarily lost her composure, saying: “Well, if you’re not going to take it seriously...”
Quick as a flash, Nigel told her: “You need to calm down – imagine you’re in a forest...”

SAIL OF THE CENTURY

THESE days, there’s less and less time needed for my haircuts, but the banter in Nigel’s salon never disappoints. A few days before my last visit, my wife and I had been guests of DFDS on board a North Sea ferry to watch the Sunderland Air Show.

“What was it like?” asked Nigel. I replied that it had been a great day, with lunch on board, a visit to meet the Captain on the bridge, and then a private viewing area to watch the aerial action.

“The only trouble was that we passed that Dalton Park retail park on the way back and my wife ended up spending a fortune on a handbag,” I groaned.

Nigel stopped cutting my hair with a look of surprise: “So, did they stop for you?” he asked.

Nigel’s normally as sharp as a pair of his best scissors, but here he was, asking if a North Sea ferry had anchored to allow me and my wife to get off to do some handbag shopping. As If we’d spotted Dalton Park in the distance while we were passing the coast and asked the captain if he could stop and provide us with a dinghy to row to shore.

“I meant we passed it in the car on the way home, you pillock,” I explained.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

CHILDREN have a habit of embarrassing you, don’t they? Take the little boy, aged around four, who was overheard by a packed carriage of passengers on the London Underground the other day.

He announced to his dad that he was desperate for a wee and was told to cross his legs until the train reached the next station.

“It’s better if I hold on to my willy,” he declared, to a round of laughter, while his dad squirmed. Worse was to come: “I hold my willy under my desk at school,” shouted the little boy, “but that’s just cos I like it.”