LAST night I took my first-born out for a wee celebratory tea. A new job beckons for him, the sort of job that could be life-changing. He's worked hard, taken tough decisions, questioned his self-belief, so I feel this vindication is well deserved. Like many fathers I look at my son and see a little of myself in him; and so much that is me, improved.

He works in the music industry; he's a creative. While we both struggled through the emotional estrangement, the unabating anger, the confounding confusion of that post-divorce space, it seems that my son possesses more maturity as a young man than I could have hoped to have. We have navigated the numbness and have found a new normal. While I'll never get those years back, I have myriad memories of my little man …

When he was born he was going to play football for Scotland and Arsenal, he was going to have a wide and varied experience of world food, he was going to share his father's (and mother’s) encyclopaedic love of music.

He had the ability to play the beautiful game professionally but not the temperament; he was too worried he would hurt opponents as he commanded the midfield. He loves food. And now he finds himself on the verge of the rest of his life. Last night, my son, the man, and I wolfed down Turkish food and sipped cold beer.

“I want to buy you something, a wee present to mark this day …”

He chomped on a lamb chop and pondered. He was never the sort of kid to ask for stuff.

My son sipped some beer and responded.

"I was thinking of getting a new tattoo…”

Some years back, no doubt as part of some mid-life crisis, I flirted with the notion of inking my skin. I ran it by my ex-wife. I told her that I was thinking of getting the kids' names and dates of birth tattooed on me, somewhere subtle.

”Why?” She asked. "Is it in case you forget their names and birthdays?”

Telt. I dropped the idea of getting a tattoo altogether.

My son already has a rather beautiful tattoo on his inner bicep. Given the location, it's not a statement tattoo. It's hidden almost all the time. I remember at the time being curious as to why he had chosen that location.

“Not everyone will see it. Some people are funny about tattoos.”

One of those people is Margaret Mountford, former right hand woman to that wee man that presents The Apprentice. The lawyer and businesswoman believes employers will be put of by inked youth.

“There are swathes of the workplace where it is simply not appropriate to be greeted by a young person with a tattoo," she said. "They are a real problem for young people.”

I once worked with Margaret. She's a very decent woman, as well as being highly successful and good company. And some years ago the younger me might have agreed with her on this subject.

There was no great culture of tattoos in my family. In those days, tattoos were very much associated with sailors and the seamier side of life. My dad used to work at a "List-D" (or "reform") school and every so often he would bring one of the youngsters home as part of the school’s re-engagement process. I'd sit and watch these lads as they did our garden or painted the garage. Most of these boys had spent their time in detention tattooing themselves. That was my abiding memory of what now has been elevated to an art form.

Every single friend I know who has a tattoo is acutely aware of how they are perceived. I know one guy who worked at a very well known London restaurant who had more than half of his body tattooed. Seeing him at work you would have no idea that under that smart suit, his back carried the image of battling angels and devils, brimstone and fire.

Much as I admire Margaret Mountford, the world has continued spinning on its axis since I shared her viewpoint. Is there any link between tattoos and talent? Is there any link between gender, race, sexuality and talent? If the CEO of a company is prepared to turn down a young, brilliant, able, future industry leader because she has a tattoo then maybe that CEO doesn't deserve to reap the benefits of such an employee.

I'm just hoping my son won't want a St George's flag wrapped around a freshly-slain dragon inked across his chest. That may be a tattoo too far …