Your old Da is 33 on Monday, and I can’t wait. I’ve always wanted to be same age as my waist size after seeing how happy it made Kevin Kyle turning 40.

I was maybe a bit too excited as I played Musical Statues 10 days too early for the first 20 minutes of our game last Saturday and because of that got the worst gift I’ve had since my kids got me a self-made card with no money in it and dad spelt wrong when the ref passed me the parcel with a red card and two-match ban.

I was the Musical Statues champion as I was slower than your granny joining in while the Cove strikers looked like they were raving to Scooter as I tried to blow out the flames coming off their Nike Vapours.

With my ban in place, I managed to get away to Dubai in Paul the Tim’s suitcase and I’m currently writing this column on Gavin Strachan’s laptop.

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The trip to Dubai where they went for sun, sea and snus has caused a lot of uproar, with the managers and captain coming in for a bit of stick for having a pint by the pool. I can see both sides of the argument about going away, however I see nothing wrong with them having a beer on their day off as they have been under as much pressure as Paul Slane’s brain (only joking, I love him, but he won’t see this because he only reads Dear Deirdrie and The Daily Sport).

Both Neil Lennon and Scott Brown will be used to the pressure and criticism that comes with both jobs and I’ve no doubt it will be water off a duck’s back, although I'm sure Lenny in particular is a T-shirt-in-the-pool type of guy.

He’ll be hoping the trip has the same effect as last year and he can get Fraser Forster in top form on their return. I’ve seen both sides to the old team bonding trips and believe they still have a place in the ultra-professional game we see these days. Especially in a time where players can’t socialise outside of football, a trip away to relax and get to know each other could work wonders.

My first season at Swindon was like a year-long stag do and we were flying as we beat Leeds 3-0 at Elland Road to go second in League One. The manager, Danny Wilson, was like a dug on heat as he announced he was taking us to London for a week-long training camp.

All the boys were dancing and singing in the dressing room at the thought of a bender in the big smoke. However, we were drowned out by our midfielder, Craig Easton - a 33-year-old grown man who was screaming like the Leeds manager in the opposite dressing room about getting a trip to Thorpe Park while we were down there!

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Of course he got hammered for it the whole way home. He’s a lovely guy, Easty, but he’s an extrovert. I once looked out my window at an away trip and saw him climbing a tree in the hotel gardens and often caught him sniffing/eating the grass and daffodils while stretching his groins at training.

Now I’m sure we trained the first morning of that camp and were then told we were free for the rest of the day. I was rooming with Charlie Austin and our bags hadn’t even touched the heated floor before we were down the bar in our Swindon Town tracksuit.

The gaffer was down next and got the drinks in as he went on to tell us about his career and had us like putty in his hands with stories about the great Brian Clough. I don’t remember training again, but I do remember one of the best weeks of my life and the penultimate night was a big one in London with all the boys (bar one) on the town.

My last memory is bowling about Leicester Square with my shirt off at 6am with Scott Cuthbert and JP McGovern watching our 20-goal-a-season striker hanging off the back of a milk van with one hand going 50 mile an hour through the capital.

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The week ended with our trip to Thorpe Park. As I said, the only man who didn’t come out the night before was Easty. He wanted to be as fresh as a daisy (the ones I caught him sniffing while stretching his groins) for his big day out as the whole week he wouldn’t stop banging on about it and a particular ride he couldn’t wait to go on (not the same rides Frank McAvennie bangs on about).

We were all worse for wear and he would have gave a paracetemol a sore head on the way there telling everyone how fast the ride went and the particular bends we could expect. We get off the bus and he sprints to the front door only to see the ride was closed due to high winds!

Easty’s face when he saw that ride was shut is how I saw other player’s faces when he recieved the ball on the pitch. We were all in stitches and the week ended the way it started in the Leeds dressing room as we danced and sang around poor Easty.

We weren’t dancing for long as we got beat 3-1 by Colchester on the Saturday! I know that sounds bad, but that was the best team I’ve ever played in and we bounced back to reach the play-off final that year, beating Charlton at The Valley in the semi final.

We were down to 10 men with 70 mins to go in that game, but with the spirit we had created that year, we worked our Henry Halls off to beat them and go to Wembley. The rollercoaster ended with us getting beat at Wembley with the game ruined due to high winds.