'COME upstairs, there's something I want to show you," shouted my wife when I arrived home from work unexpectedly.

It sounded promising so I took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the bedroom door. It wasn't quite what I'd hoped for.

"What do you think?" she asked, doing a twirl in an expensive-looking new dress. "You don't need to know how much it cost."

I have to admit, it was lovely and not entirely unexpected in view of the fact that we had an annual charity ball to go to that weekend.

My wife has plenty of evening dresses crammed into her wardrobe - most of which never see the light of day. Off the top of my head, there's a blue sparkly one, a red sparkly one, and at least one floaty black and grey number.

But she had to have a new one for the ball. Why? Because everyone would remember what she'd worn to the ball in previous years.

Where do women get this idea that people who go to dinners and balls have elephantine memories?

"Do you honestly believe that anyone will remember what you wore 12 months ago?" I asked.

"Well, the women will," she replied, firmly.

My daughter, who is 14 and already a habitual clothes shopper, agreed: "They do remember, Dad. Just accept it," she said.

I'm sorry, but I just don't buy it (the justification, not the dress).

As someone who can't remember what he wore yesterday, I refuse to accept that there are women staring across the dancefloor and muttering: "Ooh, look over there, she's wearing exactly the same dress as she wore last year."

It is an argument that needs to be blown out of the water here and now on behalf of hard-up dads and husbands everywhere because it's just an excuse for women to keep buying new dresses.

I was discussing all of this the other day with Margaret, a trusted colleague at work who is a mum of three grown-up children and soon to be a grandma. She's one of the those people with loads of common sense and, usually, sound judgement.

"Oh yes, it's absolutely true," she said without hesitation. "Women do remember - it's in their genes."

She went on to explain that she was going to a dinner dance herself at the weekend and asked a question which left me struggling for words: "With women of a mature age, do you think a brown cleavage is better than a white one?"

"Sorry?" was about all I could splutter.

She explained that she'd bought a new dress for the event (mindful of photographic memories, no doubt) and it was rather low-cut.

"I'm thinking of spraying some fake tan on my cleavage so it doesn't look like I've shoved a newly-plucked turkey down my front. What do you think?"she asked.

As an experienced husband, I instinctively sensed that this was a no-win situation. I couldn't say "No, your cleavage looks absolutely fine as it is," because that would suggest I was familiar with it - which I'm certainly not.

And I couldn't say "Yes, I'd brown it up a bit" for fear of implying that she really did look like she'd shoved a newly-plucked turkey down her front. I'd be stuffed either way so, with all the diplomacy I could muster, I just said: "I'm sure you'll look great whatever you decide."

There are times when being a bloke is all too much for me...

THE THINGS THEY SAY

CLIFF and Eileen Davey, of Yarm, have written about the time their grand-daughter Imogen, aged two, was at nursery school.

The teacher was going round the class, asking the children the names of their parents. When it was Imogen's turn, the answer came back: "Mummy."

The teacher came back a little later and tried again but got the same reply.

Suddenly, the teacher had a bright idea: "What does your Daddy call your Mummy, Imogen?" she asked.

Imogen's eyes lit up, understanding the question at last.

"Stupid," she replied.

WHEN Imogen's dad, Keith, was nine, he tried his Mum's patience to the limit one day.

"If you don't mend your ways, one of us will have to leave - you or me," she said.

With a very straight face, Keith looked her in the eye and replied: "It would be more convenient if you left."

THE THINGS DADS SAY

"I've always thought parenting was for life, but you learn to step back a bit and not to meddle. Ultimately, you've got to stop interfering. There's a moment when you've got to just shut up." - Teesside-born film director Ridley Scott.

* Listen to Peter Barron reading from the Dad At Large archive at www.thenorthernecho.co.uk. Just click on the audio and visual button.