I must be getting old

I REALISED at the weekend that I really must be getting old.

I chose to spend parts of my bank holiday weekend in Newcastle, and what struck me was the growing daytime drink culture which is enveloping the north east.

On Saturday I spent a perfectly pleasant afternoon dipping in and out of record shops and bookshops.

That was when I wasn't trying to steer clear of marauding groups of lads on stag weekends, half a dozen to 30 or 40 at a time in their souvenir T-shirts or, more entertainingly, in fancy dress.

I saw half a dozen Batmen, almost as many Robins, Superman, Spiderman, several of the Fantastic Four, Captain Jack Sparrow, and, most amusingly, Darth Vader.

There were almost as many gaggles of young (and not so young) women in cowboy hats and frankly not much else going from bar to bar, with the cackle level rising after each one.

I'm glad these revellers crossed my path, and that of my fellow shoppers, early in the day however, as I'm not sure their antics would have been so harmless once they'd had a few bevvies.

On Bank Holiday Monday I dropped down to the Quayside at Ouseburn, where Evolution, the annual free open air music festival, was taking place.

Again, it was good-natured enough, but a couple of sights I came across mid-afternoon made my mind up not to hang around until closing time.

There were lots of people having a drink, either at the handful of excellent pubs within a stone's throw of the site, or within the 'venue' itself.

Nothing wrong with that: I have been known to neck a few pints myself on occasion, and there seemed no sign of trouble, with plenty of police and stewards about to handle any that did occur.

What did irk me was the teenage lad I saw lying comatose on the ground beside the portable toilets, ignored by the 'friends' sitting just yards away.

He only moved to occasionally add to the steadily-growing pool of vomit beside his head. What a great way to spend a bank holiday.

Moments later I saw a young girl, scarcely old enough to be out by herself, let alone drink, zigzag her way through a non-existent crowd, looking like she would need medical attention very shortly.

A few minutes later, an emergency ambulance entered the site and began picking its way through the crowds.

I didn't stay long enough to find out if it was heading to the aid of one of these two young people, or some other kid who couldn't hold their drink.

But the events did raise the question of why some people use the excuse of a bank holiday to get absolutely trolleyed.

I can't remember it happening when I was young, yet you can hardly go to any town or city centre on a public holiday these days without noticing an increased police presence.

I reckon I'll stay at home next bank holiday weekend, and if the weather's fine I might even enjoy a couple of chilled bottles of beer in the garden.

You certainly won't find me lying face down in a regurgitated pile of what I had for breakfast. As I said, I think I must be getting old.

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