Who's The Daddy: One birthday present that was just the ticket

​Maybe it’s an age thing when you hit your 50s that you go around pointing at things and moaning about how much everything costs, but the ticket price for next year’s festival is more than I’ve paid for three of my cars, but less than Ticketmaster was charging during its dynamic pricing phase for Oasis tickets a few months ago. Daughter #1 was delighted with her Sunday morning’s work. I only hope she gets the weather we enjoyed for yours truly’s one and only visit to Glastonbury in 1992. Mediterranean heatwave.

Like Daughter #1, before I went I was warned about some of the sights I’d see for the first time, such as witnessing your first naked hippy prancing around at four in the afternoon, off their face on mad hallucinogens.

Back then, I think, Glastonbury wasn’t the destination festival that it is today. Like most people in the early 1990s, we didn’t carry a camera around with us. In point of fact, our little troop travelled to Somerset in two cars – and our professional photographer mate was in the other one, and because the site is so vast and what with it being pre-mobile days, we didn’t see him all weekend.

It was so long ago that some of the edgier acts that year would now be slated to play the coveted ‘Legends’ slot on Sunday afternoon. Although I doubt Blur’s Damon Albarn will repeat his antics of climbing to the top of the stage rigging while in an advanced state of refreshment mid-set as his bandmates played on.

Meanwhile, back in present day reality, Daughter #2 is now four months into her six-month stint working the kids’ club on one of the world’s biggest cruise ships that’s currently sailing around the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico.

Me and the boss are sent videos a couple of times a week of what looks like where tech billionaires go on holiday, as Daughter #2 and her crewmates from all over the world relax on their days off in glorious sunshine.

Of course, the company which employs them all work them like dogs. But Daughter #2 has been floating around in the sunshine since August, and this week met a family with a dad from Barrow-in-Furness (honestly, anywhere you go there is always one) and a mum from Coniston.

Brits are few and far between onboard, and are such a novelty that one of the chefs knocked her up a couple of Yorkshire puddings as a treat – and she managed to source some proper Yorkshire Tea. Easier said than done when you’re somewhere between the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico.

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