Our eyes locked together across the crowded room.

How long have we been parted, I thought to myself. How much water has passed under the bridge since last we saw one another? Within milliseconds, I was trotting over to greet and congratulate the focus of my gaze: not, alas, Twin Peaks-era Sherilyn Fenn, but Drew Cochrane, my first newspaper editor and a man who somehow shoehorns the word "Largs" into more or less every sentence he utters. Were he a website, he'd be visitlargs.com.

Actually, that should have read "how much wine has passed under the bridge", for we were both somewhat the worse for wear. The occasion was the Scottish Press Awards and so plentiful was the merlot and sauv blanc that even as I type a platoon of numbskulls is using the inside of my cranium for drumming practice. Begone, pests.

It was fine indeed to see my old boss presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award after his recent abdication from the Largs and Millport Weekly News, which he began editing when I was three years old. It was finer still to share a chinwag and remind him to pop into the office some time with the anthology of Leonard Cohen lyrics he borrowed from me during my brief stint as a reporter under him, though the jury is out on whether he'll recall the details of our natter. That's industry award ceremonies for you.

I can look back fondly on my spell as a cub reporter in my hometown largely because it was so short. Barely had I got settled before a phone call lured me back to the lifestyle I'd been trying to quit. After only a few months, I had handed in my notice and was bodding round Europe with Belle & Sebastian selling T-shirts and suchlike.

During my time in Largs I developed a taste for scrambled egg rolls, covered Millport Community Council meetings and spent many an hour poring over the archives in the back room - happy days indeed, but not happy enough to slake my thirst for jumping on a bus and visiting Europe's capital cities with the coolest gang in town. Having nurtured some of the finest journalists in Scotland, Drew recognised I wasn't the newshound he needed and wished me well on my travels. I never looked back.

When he left the "Wee Paper" last September Drew had been in the hotseat for 40 years, which in this day and age is staggering. But things change. The Largs office is now a funeral directors and the paper is assembled in Ardrossan. Judging from our chat, though, Drew remains as upbeat as ever and has plenty to keep him occupied. Here's to Mr Largs.