Who's the Daddy: Raise a glass to walking the dog

Banging on pub doors at 6am, posting pics on Instagram of the squad with pre-breakfast pints in hand? Or did you stay in and watch Netflix? Again?

Our daughters made the most of their new found freedom. Daughter #1 had quite the night of it around Lancaster, returning home earlier than expected at 2am covered in the contents of her friend’s stomach after she’d yakked up in the back of a taxi – incurring a hefty soiling charge.

Daughter #2 spent the day meeting up with friends in Liverpool and arrived home at a reasonable hour, on the train, wearing a face mask. The boss enjoyed a socially distanced and delicious lunch at The Borough in Dalton Square with Daughter #1 who was craving “a freezing cold, freshly poured, draught pint”. Her first since March, which she rakishly knocked back like it was the elixir of life itself.

Me? I walked the dog around the park in the rain. Both of us dressed in our winter coats in early July. Both of us only there because we are seemingly contractually obliged to march around Williamson Park 365 days a year.

It’s weird, and maybe it’s an age thing. Twenty years ago you’d have had to physically drag me out of a bar once the beer buzz kicked in. These days I want a guaranteed comfy seat and some peace and quiet for the price of my £5 pint. Anyway, the long goodbye, which began last September, has resumed as Daughter #1, who paid her first instalment of rent last week, moves bits and bobs of her stuff into the student house in Liverpool she’s sharing with seven others.

Uni may well have shut up shop with all lectures, tutorials and seminars online for the foreseeable future, but if your name’s on the lease and the place is empty then it’s party time. There is literally nothing as exhilarating as moving into your first house with your friends, right up until the moment the communal shower is blocked with hair from at least five different people. She was a bit peeved that the kitchen didn’t come equipped with a toaster, kettle or bin, but when we rented a student house at the turn of the 90s, it didn’t have a functioning bathroom.