Cheesy hits and cheesy fingers as we head back to the '80s.

Byline: mike lokley

MY ears still ring, my head still thumps, following a night of pure nostalgia.

Last weekend my wife and I travelled to Calke Abbey, on the outskirts of Burton, for a magical evening devoted to the very best of 1980s music.

The Human League, T'Pau, ABC, Go West... they played until the wee hours, with me, like some demented uncle at a wedding reception, dancing the night away.

That's the one positive thing about being in your 50s, you don't need drugs to act stupidly and suffer memory loss.

That's an anti-drugs warning the Government has missed: "Take cannabis and you'll end up like your dad."

No teenager would touch the stuff. as

I last saw the Human League in 1983. Then, I argued with my best mate because he'd forgotten to pack the flagon of scrumpy.

Last weekend I argued with my wife because she'd forgotten to pack a Victorian sponge I'd purchased.

In 1983, I drank so much alcohol I was sick.

Last weekend I ate so many of my wife's home-made cheese fingers I had to lie down.

"No, I definitely gave the car keys to you," I bickered as we entered the venue, before admitting: "Tell a lie, they're in my top pocket."

I had a lot in common with the acts. They haven't aged well, either: Martin Fry, former spanglesuited lead singer of ABC, now looks like my milkman. In fact, he might be my milkman.

He was probably backstage whinging: "I definitely gave the plectrum to you. Tell a lie, it's in my top pocket."

"What are you thinking about?" asked Julie as I watched misty-eyethe Human League belt out hit after hit. "Are you wondering where all the years have gone?" I was actually wondering if our son had fed the cats.

As a legion of revellers broke into 'Don't You Want Me Baby... ', I was screaming down the mobile: "Just give them one tin of Whiskas each and some cat milk."

"And remember to lock the back door!" I threatened.

"Tell you what," said Julie the following day, "life begins at 50."

I looked at the dark bags under my eyes in the hotel mirror. "It also begins to show," I sighed.