WHEN your baby grows a beard, then you know you must be getting old...

Smaller Son grew the beard at Easter to celebrate the end of his compulsory school career. It was an impressive effort for a 16-year-old - looked rather splendidly Viking-like - but the novelty wore off and the beard went, taking the last of the razor blades with it. Which is where the problem arose.

Sometimes I remember fondly what our bathroom shelf used to look like.

There was a procession of sweet little toothbrushes - Thomas the Tank Engine, Postman Pat, Mickey Mouse, who've all done their bit to keep the boys' teeth white.

There was even, briefly, a toothbrush which played a tune if you held it at the right angle. Unfortunately, the right angle didn't necessarily have to be in your mouth. That didn't last long either.

These days the only silly toothbrush is mine as I enter my second childhood, while they resolutely leave theirs behind.

Now there are three razors in the mug and a host of other products littering the shelf and cupboard - pre-shave foams and gels, after shave lotions, potions and balms. They smell rich, exotic and interesting and it's hard to connect them with my little boys.

But it's the razor blades that have caused the problem. Senior Son and his father use bog standard razors with bog standard blades. Smaller Son is more picky. He would be.

He insisted on buying this flash razor and after he'd dealt with the beard, he needed new blades.

You'd think, wouldn't you, that you could buy a packet of razor blades, easily enough? Nope.

I'd looked vaguely along the shelves when I was out shopping, but hadn't managed so spot them. The beard was in imminent danger of re-appearing, so I concentrated my efforts.

Finally, in Morrisons, faced with row upon row of razor blades, I could see every single one, apart from the one I wanted. Typical. I asked an assistant where these blades were. He didn't know. But a very nice lady doing her shopping heard the conversation and intervened.

"You have to ask for them at the check out," she said. "They don't put them on the shelves."

What sort of razor blades were these, I wondered, that you had to ask for specially, like some under the counter, black market dealing.

I got to the check out. I asked. I wondered, momentarily, if that nice lady had actually been a practical joker, winding me up.

"And have you any Mach 3 razor blades?" I nervously asked the check out lady. She didn't look at all surprised at my request (so the nice lady was nice after all) and buzzed for someone to get them.

I looked at them. They seemed perfectly ordinary razor blades. Why should they need such special treatment? Apparently, said the assistant, they keep getting pocketed off the shelves.

Odd, I thought. Then I checked my bill. There were four razor blades in the pack and they cost £3.69. No wonder they get nicked. Then I spotted them in Sainsburys which was even worse - £5.42 - £1.35 for a razor blade! At that price, I think it's time Smaller Son grew his beard again...