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I suppose the symbol of successfully raising children to adulthood is that your moved out kids contact you even when they don’t want something.

Oh, they do that as well, especially if we forget to ping daughter #2’s top up to her student loan on a Monday (can’t stress this enough, never never never send it on a Friday, they’ll burn through the lot by last orders).

But the cordial but long-distance relationship we have with our early-20s daughters is one of this old hack’s finest achievements. They know we’re here for them if and when things go askew.

Daughter #1 even put me on her car insurance, which I thought was a nice touch, until she told me that because I’m not quite as young as I used to be and have pootled around the UK’s highways and byways like a little old lady since passing my test (first time, God knows how) in May 1994, it makes it quite a lot cheaper for her.

It's a nice feeling that our children always needs us even when they've left home

Don’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed about that.

And because, aged 23, she’s more financially astute than I’ll ever be, she saves up and pays it all upfront because it costs a lot less than paying for credit in monthly direct debits. Budgeting and prepping her lunches for the working week on Sundays saves her a small fortune.

Well, enough to fund her share of a villa with about 15 of her friends in the Canaries this summer. Sounds fun if you’re 23. Feels like a Bushtucker Trial on I’m A Celebrity if you’re 53 and like to be in bed for 10pm on a school night.

I’d imagine the party won’t stop til about noon on day three, by which time I’d be face down in the pool, dead as disco. These young ‘uns do keep funny hours.

Finally this week, just to prove that nice things do sometimes happen in newspapers, many thanks to a long-time fan of the column who tipped up a very generous donation to daughter #1’s fundraising efforts for PAPYRUS Prevention Of Young Suicide in next month’s Great Manchester Run, after reading about it in these very pages a few weeks ago.

We were all genuinely touched and it has got daughter #1 pretty close to her target.

Training’s hit a slight hiccup thanks to a stubborn hip injury that refuses to go away. But blessed/cursed with her mother’s determination and her father’s sheer bloody mindedness, she’ll make the distance even if she has to crawl across the line.

To read more Who’s The Daddy click here

Who's The Daddy: Being a parent doesn’t stop when the kids leave home