Off to see Ed Sheeran with my teenage son. And I’m not allowed get drunk

MYSELF and The Teenager are off to Ed Sheeran this week. I am beyond excited. He – not so much. I think having to go to one of the biggest concerts of the summer with his Dear Old Mam has taken the shine off.

‘Well he can’t go on his own. He’s too young. He’s not 16 till June,’ said Captain Sensible AKA Himself.

‘I went to a concert in the RDS with my friend when I was just

16. I drank three pints of cider in some dodgy pub off Grafton Street and ended up being carted off to the Order of Malta tent just before Bono came on. I was devastated,’ I told them, omitting the part that we had to spend the night in Store Street police station because we couldn’t remember my friend’s sister’s address and we didn’t know her phone number!

The Teenager is not impressed. ‘See?! Look what she got up to at my age! I wouldn’t be stupid enough to do anything like that.’ His father isn’t budging though and insists on me chaperoning the Almost 16 Year Old. How good a chaperone I’ll be is another matter.

‘You don’t have to tell him EVERYTHING you did when you were his age you know,’ he hissed at me. ‘I haven’t. I haven’t told him about the time I drank the home made apricot wine and got sick in the toilets of the disco and had to be carried out by my brother and his friends!’

‘Jesus Christ Almighty you were a reprobate!’ my husband tells me in a manner which makes me think he’s having second thoughts about marrying me.

The thing is I don’t think I was a reprobate. I was silly and giddy and made stupid mistakes but how do any of us learn if we don’t make mistakes?

I reckon I know practically every trick in the teenage delinquent handbook so it’s pretty hard to get one over on me.

‘Will we bring a naggin in my handbag?’ I say to the Teenager only half joking. ‘Maaaaam! You are NOT to bring a naggin in your handbag. You won’t be let in.’ I told him I’d hide it down my underwear. It’s amazing what you can get down a pair of spanx. The poor child is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

‘You’re sending me to a concert with her?! She’s worse than any teenager. I’d probably get into less trouble without her,’ he shouts, his patience wearing thin.

So the upshot is I’m going to see Ed Sheeran with my teenage son. I’m not allowed get drunk, go to the front of the stage or dance and sing in a manner which might draw attention to myself. Teenagers these days take themselves far too seriously.

Never been to a concert without a naggin before!

I RECKON I KNOW PRACTICALLY EVERY TRICK IN THE TEENAGE DELINQUENT HANDBOOK SO IT’S PRETTY HARD TO GET ONE OVER ON ME