Daughter's birthday disco party night finally came round last weekend.

I spent the Saturday morning shopping for pizzas and the afternoon cooking them in rotation, slicing them and packing them up to be transferred to the hall we had hired.

In the end we decided to give her dad a last-minute reprieve and he was allowed to stay at home dog sitting instead of being a doorman.

Daughter had decided if there had to be an adult there I was probably the least potentially embarrassing. I think that was a sort of back-handed compliment.

However I was given explicit instructions by daughter - "On no account attempt to dance, that would be toooo embarrassing for words. Do not 'talk' to any of my friends as if you are one of them. Do not talk at all if possible."

Having promised to behave myself in a suitably invisible fashion I was allowed into the car, albeit with five trays of leaking pizza on my lap.

Daughter couldn't carry anything because she had spent five hours getting ready and was worried her clothes might get creased.

I had had ten minutes to change my T-shirt, which was covered with pizza flour, and clean my teeth before we left - but then it wasn't my party.

We arrived at the hall and met the parents of the friend she was holding the party with. I noticed they too were loaded down with boxes of supplies. We managed to get everything set up before the guests arrived.

After all our preparations, they all seemed to enjoy themselves and the mobile DJ seemed to play mostly the right music. It was all very similar to teenage discos I used to go to myself, that is there were about six boys, who stayed firmly glued to chairs all night, and about 40 girls who danced.

Much to my surprise the food actually got eaten and there were no fights or gatecrashers.

They all had a good time. Well, all except me who just got very cold skulking around the door all night thinking about how much I wanted a hot chocolate or a very large G and T or both. Unfortunately these were the two essential supplies we hadn't thought to bring along.

Still, all done now. Hopefully I won't feel obliged to do it again for a few years and by then daughter will be old enough to have her party in a proper club where I won't have to supervise.

It was obviously all too much for my old bones because within a few days I had gone down with some sort of virus and had to take to bed for a couple of days.

Daughter obviously appreciated my party-providing, because she made me eggs on toast and cups of tea.