The saying goes that you are only as old as you feel.

Well today I feel like an 83-year-old who has just run upstairs and tripped over his iron lung.

The root cause of this is a weekend in Liverpool for the Grand National on my brother-in-law-to-be's stag weekend.

Aside from his dad, who is a practised imbiber anyway, I was the oldest by about ten years and boy did it show.

I was pleased and touched to have been invited along. It was a bit like asking your nan to join you in a half marathon - you know they are going to hold you back.

Two days of carousing and staying up late left me appearing as if I had just donated eight pints of blood and by the time I arrived home I made Iggy Pop look like a cover model for Men's Health magazine.

I travelled back from Liverpool by rail. It was a tortuous journey, made all the more bizarre by an excuse for a late train that, even by First Great Western's shambolic standards, will take some beating.

I was on the 14.00 from Bristol Temple Meads to Paddington but just as it began moving it ground to a halt again.

"We wish to apologise for the delay in the departure of this train, it is due to a swan on the line," said the guard over the public address, without a trace of irony.

He made it sound as if trains are routinely prevented from chugging off by wayward wildlife.

Three men in Network Rail anoraks walked uncertainly down the platform and a few moments later the train was under way. I'm not sure what they did to the swan, probably threw a few buffet sandwiches at its head and stunned it.

I must say I was impressed with Liverpool. The city is lively, friendly and full of people who love having a good time.

I found myself wandering alone in the city centre, slightly worse for wear, at about 2.30am on Saturday morning. There were about 100 people waiting patiently for a taxi. Most of them had been at the races all day and all had taken a drink.

But there was not a hint of aggression or trouble. People laughed and joked, hugged, shook hands and I had several conversations with young lads who looked like Crimewatch CCTV stills but couldn't have been chummier.

I'm not sure if I could say the same for Chippenham at the same time of day. I'd no sooner be out there alone at the taxi rank than in downtown Fallujah wearing a Stars and Stripes T-shirt.

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IT is always nice to see former Gazette colleagues doing well. I was delighted to hear our former sports editor Stuart White, who now works for the Reading Evening Post, has been given the job of reading out the news headlines on the paper's web site.

Stuart is a good-looking lad who always attracts appreciative glances and there was a period of mourning among the ladies of the advertising department when he left.

He is a talented writer with a great eye for design but his delivery on camera has all the panache of a man who has been shot in the neck with a tranquiliser dart while trying to read a script written on his shoe.

You can see for yourself here. It is an absolute joy to behold.