You know you're getting old when you read an item in a newspaper about the goings-on of the 'youth of today' and you hear yourself tutting at the madness of it all.
In the latest example of acknowledging one's advancing years my gaze was drawn to the Daily Record in Scotland, which reported the case of an 11 year-old girl who had been chucked out of her school in Kircaldy, Fife, for swigging vodka in class.
According to the report the young lady in question had allegedly smuggled it into her schoolroom in a Lucozade bottle and passed it round for her mates to have a go.
Apparently the girl's parents are "mortified" by what has happened, and since the incident she has returned to the school, suitably chastened by a hefty dose of telling off, as well as some pointers about drinking alcohol, one assumes.
I think 11 years old is shockingly young to be knocking back booze of any sort, let alone something as potent as vodka. It was hopefully a rare incident; I don't know whether many children of such an age are tempted to do the same thing - sadly some probably are.
But as I read the article and tut-tut-tutted into my bowl of Frosties I was aware of an uncomfortable feeling of hip-hip-hypocrisy. Double standards. Call it what you like, I realise that while an 11 year-old necking spirits in a classroom is totally unacceptable, the temptations to break rules is an innate part of growing up.
Sure, like smoking, boozing at an early age is to be discouraged. But then kids will be kids, and for some of the little charmers drinking a watered-down glass of wine at a family meal just isn't the same as tasting the fiery kick that grain spirit can deliver - never mind the retching and 'parking of pavement pizzas' that, for the uninitiated, inevitably follows such behind-the-bikeshed activity.
I remember getting ab-so-lutely hammered on a bottle of Dubonnet Red (I had class, clearly) while hanging out with some mates when we were in our mid-teens. When I staggered through the front door my parents gave me hell. But however mighty was their wrath - and it was mighty mighty I can tell you - it paled into insignificance when set alongside what turned out to be my first real hangover.
I learnt a hard lesson on that occasion. Of course I've 'overdone it' a few times in the intervening years, but it was a lesson that has nevertheless stuck with me. I hope the young lady in Kirkaldy has realised some home truths through her own experience too.