Prom night

Last night I was treated to the quite surreal sight of the residential streets of Newton-le-willows snarled up by stretch limos, luxury hire cars and posh taxis.

It was quite a spectacle and, genuinely, the area around St Aelred's College came to an absolute standstill.

The occasion was the Year 11 prom, with all the GCSE-level young 'uns getting together one last time for a bash at Rivington Hall.

Our eldest was there. I won't embarrass her any more than to say she looked fab, but she did.

It's easy to be a sourpuss about this kind of thing, I know I personally lost the will to live many times in the build up to the event. My opinions on which shade of make up to choose and which shoes to wear are quite limited.

Some folk seem to have really pushed the boat out too, which will have come at no little cost - an issue itself for many onlookers I'm sure.

But I was talking about this to a mate of mine who is a teacher. He agreed that the vulgar amounts of money some parents throw at these events is an issue, but overall he was really positive about them.

In his view, the school prom is the one time that even the most horrible, disagreeable little tyke makes an effort to scrub up well, providing a rare opportunity for self-pride in some instances.

Hmmm. OK then.