Me, Myself, I

These cold nights. My wife complains of waking up under a heavy dew. At least that's what I think she says.
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Like a lot of people there's something sad about Pontin's going bust but then, like a lot of people, I haven't been on a Pontin's holiday since I was a teenager. Which is why it's going bust (not because I haven't been, but because I'm typical of a lot of people...durrrr).
 I went to Pontin's in Devon when I was 16 with three mates and it was the first time we'd been allowed to go away as lads and without parents so we had a wonderful time.
 My mate Paul met a girl - Angela from Harlow - who he ended up dating for years and years afterwards. I got stabbed in the chest by a girl's stiletto. She was from Hemel Hempstead. Funny but every holiday I've ever taken with the lads, I've met a girl from Hemel Hempstead.
 What I remember most though was that our O Level results came in while we were on holiday. I phoned home (from a phone box, as was the way then) to find out I'd passed three and failed the rest.
 It fair spoiled the rest of the holiday and when I got home my dad didn't speak to us for what seemed like weeks.
 Of course, it all turned out for the best. If I'd done well I may have been under pressure to go to university and to media studies or philosphy and completely waste three years of my life.
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I've refused to join that Facebook group suggesting we throw a party when Thatcher dies. Don't get me wrong, I am anti-Thatch (as my alter ego Ben Elton would say). But being bitter and nasty is just a negative aspect of getting older and I am not going to let that happen to me. So, I will always detest her but I won't celebrate when she eventually goes. After all, it will merely be the death of an old lady and people dying is never a cause for celebration, no matter what. But I won't go teary eyed either.
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I'm so old I can remember when Craig Brown was funny. Mind you that was before he joined the Daily Mail.
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It's my son's birthday tomorrow. He'll be 12, the little soldier. He's invited eight of his friends to go bowling and although I've tried, I can't get out of it. Oh joy.
Expect a slightly exasperated blog tomorrow. Until then, xxx, Solly