MY wife of 28 years looked me in the eye and didn’t mince her words: “I don’t want to be married to a grandad,” she said.

I swallowed hard. Was she trying to tell me it was over? That she wanted to ditch me in favour of a younger model?

“No,” she insisted. “I just don’t fancy being married to a grandad. It’s as simple as that.”

And it’s a pretty big problem because a grandad is exactly what I’m going to be in less than two weeks, if the due date of October 10 proves to be accurate.

I’m sure she thinks I’m suddenly going to take to wearing a flat cap and a grey cardigan, spend my evenings in a rocking chair, buy a walking stick, and begin reminiscing about the war. Well, I’m not. I’ll still be me. The same man she fell in love with at 19. I’ll just be a grandad.

I honestly don’t think it’s occurred to her that it works both ways – and that I’ll have to come to terms with being married to a grandma as well.

We’re both just going to have to get used to it and concentrate on being good grandparents, like those our own children were blessed with.

Mind you, I’m also determined not to be quite as obsessively protective as my own dad when it came to his grandkids. Over the years, his now legendary warnings included:

• “Don’t let those bairns swim in the sea. Sharks are coming closer to the shore because of global warming.” We were heading for a day out at Whitby at the time and I told him there had never been a Great White spotted there in history. “There’s always a first time,” he replied.

• “Oh, I wouldn’t let them do that – they could get spooked and bolt.” I’d made the big mistake of telling him that they wanted a donkey ride on the beach. They were going to be riding Neddy, not Shergar.

• “Watch those bairns – don’t let them go near the propellers.” That time, we were off on a North Sea ferry to Holland. Quite how they’d have got near the propellers is anyone’s guess.

• “Don’t let them get too close to those lions – they might look docile but they can change in an instant.” We were off to London Zoo. What did he think – that I was going to dangle them upside down by their feet over the big cat enclosure?

• “Have you got any rat poison?” I was once asked. “Why, have you got a rat?” I asked. “No, you just don’t want to leave any lying around where those bairns can get it,” he said.

There were countless others, involving electricity sockets, sun lotion, scissors, bath-times, paddling pools, and ovens, and I hereby promise not to be quite as paranoid.

All I’ve got to do is get through the next couple of weeks. It’s not so much the birth I’m worried about – it’s whether the divorce papers arrive from my wife in the meantime.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

Betty Desborough remembered teaching at St Peter’s Church of England School in Brotton, and asked the pupils: “Who can tell me who lives in Buckingham Palace?”

Met by a sea of blank faces, she gave them a clue: “She’s the most important lady in the country.”

A little boy’s hand shot up and he shouted: “My gran!”

MY favourite ever grandma story came when the speaking tour reached Redcar a few years back.

An elderly lady, with a tear or two in her eyes, started telling me all about her grandson, Michael.

She really missed him because he’d died from meningitis at the age of just ten.

She said she would never forget his fifth birthday party. The kids were playing “Pin the tail on the donkey” and no one had got the tail anywhere near the donkey, so Michael asked his Grandma to have a go.

The thing is that she was a cheat. She wore the blindfold too loose so she could see underneath it and got the tail slap bang on target.

A little boy said to Michael and said: “Eeeh, Michael, your Grandma is ‘nalf clever!”

“That’s nothing,” replied Michael. “She can take her teeth out as well.”

P.S. I can hear my dad up in heaven… “Don’t let those bairns play ‘Pin the tail on the donkey’ – they’re sharp those pins.”