Who's The Daddy: Birthdays are a little quieter than they used to be

I only ask because tomorrow sees yours truly reach an age that if I dropped dead in my sleep tonight people would say, “Wow, that’s young… but not that young.”

Birthdays in past years have been raucously celebrated in football stadiums and nightclubs, more often than not one right after the other. Thirty-five years ago you’d have had to literally drag me out of a club.

But in 2025 the thought of yelling down a mate’s ear all night while music that I don’t understand, feels scary and makes my ears ring for a fortnight is about as appealing as a consultation process during a round of mass redundancies.

Another thing that changes as you get older is you don’t want any presents. When you get to my age you’re actively trying to get rid of all the crap you’ve accumulated through the years. The last thing you need is more stuff.

Which is a concept that our grown and flown daughters are struggling with. They’ve asked me what I’d like and I’ve said nothing, please and thank you. OK, maybe a bag of logs and some kindling. And even that’s a little ostentatious.

Earlier this week I met up with old college buddies I’ve known since 1988. On a Monday night, at an Indian restaurant. Not at Borussia Dortmund, Berlin’s Olympic Stadium or Hamburg’s Reeperbahn. In times past mere words would be insufficient to describe those nights out, only interpretive dance and a Voodoo ceremony could have done them justice.

Not now. A couple of hours nattering about what our kids are up to while sipping one pint, an alcohol-free beer and a jug of water between us was cathartic.

We even tentatively discussed meeting up at a festival this summer, but the thought of camping in a field all weekend and sleeping on the floor without a limitless supply of gas and air, strong opioids and a winch to lift us all upright after a solid night of three hours’ sleep is the stuff of actual nightmares.

A man’s got to know his limits, and standing up for two hours without a good sit-down is just about mine. Stiff backs are not funny, and no matter how many spin and Pilates classes you do now, never forget that festivals knackered you out in your 20s, and when you’re at a festival in your mid-50s you’re basically trespassing on young people’s property. You have no business there, unless you’re the headline act.

Some people take drugs at festivals. I’d be more interested in a steady supply of anti-inflammatories and piping hot green tea. And as for the toilets, I’d rather hold it in all weekend thank you very much. Daughter #1 is off to Glastonbury this summer. For yours truly to even contemplate a festival now the line-up would have to include The Beatles, The Stone Roses, Mozart, the Aphex Twin and the original cast of Play School. And even then I’d probably only do the day.

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