THE dear departed Queen Elizabeth - God bless her - went back a long way with me. In fact, it's where it all began really.

She ascended to the throne as I was 'arriving' in Kilwinning (I didn't have a choice). Winston Churchill was Prime Minister, Harry Truman was American President and, you could get a fish tea at Nardinis for about 10p.

I still chuckle at the fact that as I was making my debut on this mortal coil so were Sooty and Sweep, The Flower Pot Men and even the Goon Show (yes, madam, that accounts for my zany sense of humour). One of my all-time favourite black and white movies, High Noon, starring Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly was released. All together now..."Oh, don't forsake me, oh my darling".

In that year - congratulations, sir, you've worked it out already - the New Musical Express launched the first record charts with Al Martino's 'Here In My Heart' as the first ever number one.

On a more sombre note, Britain exploded its first atomic bomb on an island off Australia and London was covered in smog (nothing to do with the bomb). I believe Kilwinning is still smoggy, but I could be wrong.

I have actually played my Royal remembrance card a few times when I wrote a column about meeting Her Majesty at Buckingham Palace in my capacity as former chairman of the Society of Editors in Scotland, so our paths literally crossed and I'm sure she liked the Black Watch tartan suit I was wearing (yes, I still have it, madam and it fits me!). She looked me up and down, perhaps thinking I was Colonel-in-Chief of Scottish journalists.

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You can call me the Platinum Kid since it's yet another septuagenarian birthday this week in a year of September birthdays that I share with actors Liam Neeson and Jenny Agutter, and, erm....oh, yes Joe Strummer, the drummer with The Clash but he died last year.

Speaking of which, I knew a man who gave up smoking, drinking, sex and rich food. He was healthy... right up to the time he killed himself.

As regular - or irregular, more likely - readers will know I like to do my research so some sobering thoughts: in my birth year you could post a letter for a penny, tea rationing was just ending and cost 19p for a pound packet, a pint of beer was only seven and a half pence, the TV licence was £2 and, wait for this, a gallon of petrol was only 21p. Mind you, nobody I knew had a car. However, a few horse and carts came round our way. No kidding.

So you can call me vintage (Editor: I can think of a few choice words) but, to me, old age is always 15 years more advanced than I am.

However, I revel in the fact that my generation made music that will never be matched again (Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah!) I recall that in the Queen's Silver Jubilee Year of '77 we had classic hits like Abba's Dancing Queen and The Eagles' Hotel California.

Yes, in '77 many of us had long hair, now it's longing for hair. Back then it was acid rock, now it's acid reflux. You were maybe going to a new "hip joint"; now you're getting one. It was the young Rolling Stones, now beware kidney stones and if you went to a disco, now it's Costco.

You've got to laugh (yes, even you that's waiting for a hip replacement) when you think back that we used to sneak out of our houses to go to parties. Now, we sneak out of parties to go home and are at the age when an "all-nighter" just means that you didn't have to get up for the toilet.

It was French crooner Maurice Chevalier (Editor's note: You certainly know your audience) who said that the only difference between a man of 40 and one of 70 was 30 years of experience. My one regret is that my toenails seem further away than they used to be and I really must stop saying "in my day" as "in my day, that never used to be a hill".

So, dear reader, don't regret what we did, regret what we didn't do. I'm not as young as I used to be but, hopefully, not as old as I'm going to be. Watch this space.

Thought for the Week: When you are old and tired and grey, Wear your overcoat on a sunny day; When your brave tales have all been told, I'll ask for them when you are old.

A political footnote

If I was wealthy I would be travelling to Australia this week in business class instead of a 17-hour, non-stop flight in economy 'cattle' class praying that my damaged knee doesn't throb, and my bahookie doesn't cramp from sitting so long.

While a lot of us won't actually freeze to death this winter after Sir Keir Starmer and Cruella de Reeves withdrew the heating allowance (established in 1997 by Labour Chancellor Gordon Brown fae Fife) politics is wrapped up in the following fact.

If Labour had announced in the run-up to the recent election that they would be taking away the winter heating payment they would not have been voted in. In fact, the champagne socialists stated that they wouldn't do it.

"Ah, but they discovered a £22 billion 'black hole' that nobody knew about." Utter tosh.

Not only does almost every government operate on a 'loan today, pay back in 50 years' basis but the British economy is one of the fastest growing economies in the G7 super states, the stock market is nearing an all-time high, consumer spending is booming (must be the train drivers, teachers and junior doctors) and consider the UK's actual current account deficit.

We have a deficit of around 3.3 per cent of GDP - gross domestic product - which the independent Institute for Fiscal Studies explains is a capital account surplus of that amount bolstered further by falling inflation. The institute's figures forecast a potential shortfall of between 10 and 20 billion pounds in the balance of payments by 2029.

Incidentally, with the pound soaring against other currencies perhaps I should stay in Australia (stop cheering). No heating allowance needed there.