It’s been a week of firsts for me. The first first, as it were, came on Saturday when I went to watch Queen Of The South play.
They are a Scottish football team, and to cut a long story shortish we were in Dumphries for a party for our work colleague Darren ‘Dazzle’ Shearer, and it was a long way to go for a party, but an excellent weekend.
Not one to waste a Saturday afternoon, I realised the Doonhammers were at home to St Johnson so I made my way to Palmerston Park, while the rest of our party went to the shops or went to sleep.
It was a cracking game which the home side won 3-1, and I really enjoyed it.
I went and stood behind the goal in the second half, and there are not many places you go and shout “Come on you Queens!”.
My second first, as it were, came on Monday and was a slightly sad affair compared to the weekend.
It was the first time I gad been in St Paul’s Church in Worcester, and what a lovely church.
We were saying goodbye to my old friend Barry Jones, who I mentioned in this column a couple of weeks ago, and I have to say it was an excellent service.
Can you enjoy that sort of event? Well, there were tears and there was laughter and I think it was a splendid celebration of Barry’s life.
His son Andrew, and Graham Blackett, from the male voice choir, gave two superb eulogies, the choir sang lustily under the circumstances, as it was a farewell to their former conductor and a man they all had great respect for.
The minister was very good and set the right tone, so all in all not a bad day considering it was a sad occasion.
I think Graham summed it up when he said Barry will be missed, but will not be forgotten.
The third first came on Tuesday.
Joshua George (my grandson) was celebrating his first birthday.
My, how that 12 months has gone by. Well, as they do, he had a lot of presents.
He had all sorts of things to climb through, make noises with, read.
There were all sorts and of course his favourite was… two balloons and some wrapping paper, but he was happy.
Popped in the Barmaid’s on Tuesday night after a very bad night at the slimming club.
Well, no wonder considering all the buffets and birthday cake we had eaten, and I thought the gaffer might have paid for my Diet Coke… but that would have really been a first.
Electric Ted has now reverted to calling him WD40, as he reckons he’s so tight he squeaks when he walks along so some WD40 might stop the noise.
l Dave Bradley is the BBC Hereford & Worcester sports correspondent