Time share nightlife with Cinderella hours

Unless they want some money off you, they avoid eye contact in the same way 99 per cent of shoppers studiously look the other way when walking past a homeless person begging for change.

But because of a time lag, nightlife currently operates on a kind of time share basis – so fingers crossed we never cross paths with our teenage kids when we’re in an advanced state of refreshment.

Here’s an example.

These days the Olympic Flame goes out more than me and the boss.

But last Saturday we put our glad rags on and went to the pub.

Who’s The Daddy? is a two-pot screamer these days and reaches his fill level in beer far quicker than he used to in his prime.

So we bought a bottle of Rioja for just under £18 that a supermarket would be embarrassed to sell you for a fiver.

Bog standard, screw top brake fluid that made your eye twitch at first gulp.

Then we bumped into one of the boss’ former workmates and they talked shop for an hour and a half while me and her husband selected the default setting of conversation for men in pubs who don’t know each other very well – Premier League football.

After we’d had a bellyful of wine, we decided to walk home.

And this is where it got interesting.

As we made our way up the hill from town at something to midnight, we were met by dozens of bright young things heading in the opposite direction who were just on their way out.

Seriously, one generation was heading for the land of nod while the one coming up to replace them was just off into town for a few sharpeners before the night really began.

Are we that old? Are they that young? Are we that screwed?

When the clock strikes midnight, all people who can remember what life was like before the internet really, really want is their head on a pillow and eight hours of quality shut-eye.

And while we’re on the subject of drinking, when did all-day hangovers after just one beer and a few leisurely glasses of wine become a thing?

I tell you, the game’s not straight.