OH, to be a child again.

True, increasingly I feel like one, as a procession of scary adults comes north to scold me before patting me on the head and promising sweets at some later, unspecified date.

But to be a real child, rather than just a Scottish person, would be such a joy — depending on where one lived.

According to a survey of 2,000 adults, carried out by leading academic institution the Panda Soft Drinks Company, Norwich is now the happiest place in Britlandshire to be a child.

On reading this intelligence, I spat out a mouthful of Frosted Shreddies, which I never used to have in the morning until that nice woman on the Better No' advert told us to stop thinking and eat our cereal.

Speaking of comestibles, regular readers may recall that Norwich is the place where, attending the cinema to watch a moving picture, I had a boiled sweet thrown at the back of my head.

I'm not saying the incident traumatised me, even if an internet search might reveal that, in the course of an influential journalistic career, I've referred to this violent incident more times than I have to the Iraq War.

Be that as it may, confectionary hurled at the cranium is the first thing I think about when the N-place comes up.

Norwich, however safe it may be for children, is no place for adults, and I'd never set foot in it again without benefit of armour.

Now I've neither the desire nor the qualifications to question the scientific research methodology and psephological assumptions of the Panda Soft Drinks Company.

But you have to ask if they even sent a military expert to the controversial East Anglian city to verify their claims.

What criteria did they use? Well, open spaces, public amenities and safe roads were among the factors adduced in securing a happy childhood.

Having a garden to play in was the most popular feature overall for infantile fulfilment, and this has been trotted out as the excuse for London and Brighton, with all their flats, being quite low down the list.

The former was 16th, the latter 18th equal in the top 20. Then again, the tenemental nirvana that is Glasgow came fifth, perhaps because of all the parks, though it might just as well have been there on account of having friendly adults.

Interestingly, in the loose sense of the term, Edinburgh ("You'll have had your toys") came 20th in the top 20.

Bottom line is, I don't envy children today, in the sense that they live in a world where adults in the street are afraid to smile and say hello to them. It could make them grow up as grim as Johann Lamont.

And does it matter where you live as long as you've enough universal gadgets with which to play? Perhaps a park is just a place to sit on a bench faffing about with a phablet.

Perhaps I'm doing the children, or at least their idealistic parents, a disservice.

Norwich was actually marked down for a lack of hills suitable for sledging. Didn't I read in the Daily Tale that sledging was illegal now?

Perhaps they meant only in an independent Scotland.

Meanwhile, a spokeswoman for Panda peered over her half-moon glasses and ululated: "A happy childhood does not depend on the latest games, expensive gadgets and access to theme parks.

"This survey shows how vital the great outdoors can be."

Amen to that, I think (sorry, Better No' cereal woman). I spent my entire childhood outdoors and am not convinced it did me much good.

You say: "But look at the fine, strapping man you turned out to be." And I say: "That is a pillar box you are talking to, madam. I am over here. Standing on your glasses."

I didn't even learn much about nature, unless you count dog poo and puddles.

But I was happy by and large. Certainly we had safer roads. There were fewer cyclists back in those days.

Still, that was then. And this, according to my watch, is now.

Look, here are more of those adults. Hoy! They're trying to take my piggy bank.