The Generation Game

Back in the vintage years of Tom and Gerry, there was a hulking bulldog called Spike. He was kind of intimidating, didn't care for cats, but was oddly indulgent of mice.

All of his menace would evaporate however when he saw his little pup doing something worthy. He would puff out his large chest and remark, in a voice not dissimilar to Jimmy Durante, the immortal phrase: "chip off the old block".

I'm thinking of Spike when I stand at the side of the stage during the Ash gig at Glasgowbury. I'm on the quiet side of the crash barriers, taking in the gig at my leisure. The crowd is excited, bawling and enthused.

And then I notice a familiar face in the front row. It's my eldest daughter. She has spent a lot of time working her way to the front of the stage and she's guarding her space well, pushing intruders away with her elbows. She's taking pictures of the gig and stopping for the occasional shot of herself in the tumult. And she's singing along with all the big choruses.

I point this out to some of the other people in my company. They also think it's a hoot. Finally, a friend walks over to me and nails it. "You look so proud Stu," she comments. Absolutely. Chip off the old block...