NEVER again. No chance. Absolutely not. Hell will have to freeze over and the oceans run dry before I ever take the little 'un to another football match.

He'd begged to go to his first "real" football match, arguing that he was nearly seven. I'd put it off because he's renowned for his inability to sit still or shut up but in the end there was no denying him.

It has to be said that there are more glamorous fixtures than Darlington versus Cambridge United but, to the little 'un, it was as big as it gets.

"Wow - there's hundreds of millions of people here," he said, blinking as he climbed the steps into the stadium.

Darlington, deep in the financial mire, could have done with hundreds of millions of spectators but there were only 5,000. Nevertheless, it quickly turned out to be a game that won't be forgotten in a hurry...

"Dad, which way are Darlington kicking?" (He asked that three times in the first five minutes.)

"Dad, was that a penalty?" (They weren't even in the box.)

"Dad, what does offside mean?"

"Dad, will there be a goal soon? Will it be a Darlington goal, Dad? Will it be a header or a shot, Dad?"

He announced - loudly - that he wanted to go for a wee ten minutes into the match.

"Can't you wait 'til half time?"

"No, Dad - I'm desperate."

What it meant, of course, was that half of Block 7, Row 23 had to stand up to let us out and we managed to stand on the toes of most of them.

The endless questions and fidgeting continued unabated when we returned, disrupting Row 23 for a second time in the process.

We'd just made it to the 30-minute mark when he piped up again: "Dad, I need to go to the toilet."

"But you went 20 minutes ago," I said through gritted teeth.

"I only managed a dribble," he said, which was more than anyone on the pitch had managed.

"I'm really desperate this time," he added, holding the front of his trousers. I couldn't risk it - up went Row 23 once more.

With half-time approaching, I didn't have the heart to go back to Row 23. We waited until the whistle had blown before daring to return.

As soon as we'd sat down, he came out with the best yet: "Dad, can I have a hot dog but without the sausage?"

I worked very hard at explaining that a hot dog without the sausage is just a bread bun, in much the same way that a pork pie without the pork is just a crust, a ham sandwich without the ham is just two bits of bread, and a bag of crisps without the crisps is just a plastic bag.

"I'm not asking for a hot dog without the sausage," I insisted.

The tears started almost immediately. Call me weak, but I couldn't face having a scene. Luckily, most of Row 23 weren't there to be uprooted - they were in the hot dog queue.

"A hot dog but without the sausage please," I asked when I finally reached the counter.

"That's just a bread bun," said the boy serving.

"Yes, I know," I assured him. "But can I have one anyway?"

"We can only serve hot dogs or pies or sausage rolls," he said.

With the remnants of the queue shuffling and sighing behind me, I bought a hot dog, flung the sausage in the bin, called my wife on the mobile and begged her to come and pick him up so I could go back and watch the second half in peace.

"Dad, I don't like this bread bun," he said as her car pulled up outside the ground.

I think Darlington lost. Who knows?

THE THINGS THEY SAY

WHAT a lovely bunch they are at The Grove Methodist Church Thursday Group, a mile down the hill from Consett. Once known as the Young Wives, let's just say they've grown up together...

Carol Sowerby recalled the time she was at the church harvest festival and a fruit and veg auction was under way.

Son David, six at the time, insisted she made a bid for a particularly fine leek and the price reached an exorbitant £2.50 before the vegetable was safely secured.

It was stuck in the vegetable rack back at the house but when Carol went upstairs to tuck David in that night, there he was, fast asleep with his arms round his leek.

DAVID loves swimming and was watching his favourite sport on telly. He was far too close to the screen so his mum told him to move back, saying: "You'll get splashed if you're not careful."

"Don't worry, Mum," replied David, "just bring me a towel."

THURSDAY Group pianist Mildred Weatherley told of the time a little girl had been shopping with her grandma in Consett.

They were walking home past a glass-fronted residential home resembling a long conservatory, with the old folk looking out of the windows.

"Are all those grandmas for sale?" asked the little girl.

LAST but far from least, Dorothy Butterfield remembered her grandson Daniel going to a children's party when he was five.

"What's the magic word?" the magician asked Daniel to make the trick happen.

"Please," said Daniel.

Now there's a boy who's been brought up right.

Published: 22/04/2004