The knob-end of a slice of bread, a tin of baked beans, a small sack of sugar and a teabag!

THE knob-end of a slice of bread, a tin of baked beans, a small sack of sugar and a teabag - what's that all about?

It was a gift from a 50th birthday celebration at the weekend when my oldest and greyest of friends gathered at a swish golf club just outside of Watford to mark our collective half centuries.

The present was a pleasant reminder of our childhoods.

We had all gone to school together at a posh grammar school in Northwood Hills, Middlesex - the last of the 11 Plus brigade and, in fact, the grammar school became a comprehensive midway through our secondary school years when, heaven forbid, we mixed with girls for our 'O' level classes! So, the six of us; Kevin, Nigel, Eric, Paul, Andy and myself became close friends.

Free-time was sometimes spent at my parents' home in South Ruislip. We'd play football and cricket, or spend the days out riding our bikes. I had one of those old-style reel-to-reel tape recorders, a collection of microphones, and we would occasionally set up a studio in the lounge; recording music, singing badly and editing the tapes - one year we actually won the British Amateur Tape Recording Contest with one of our ropey Parkfield Crescent productions.

Heady and happy times during an age of total innocence - no internet, no mobile phones, no satellite TV, no spectre of drink or drugs, we made our own entertainment and enjoyed those teenage years without the weight of the world on our shoulders!

And during those mad-cap days, lunch was always beans on toast with a fine brew to boot - hence the amusing 50th birthday gift. My mother used to have one of those old-style cookers with a grill at the top. You needed to use a match to light the grill which would spew out a tongue of flame which would sometimes threaten to singe our cat. Still, it made perfect toast every time and before the age of the microwave, the beans were perfect!

When we left school aged 18 to go our separate ways I went to journalism college in Harlow, Paul went to university in Bath, Kevin started work in the computer department with Taylor Woodrow in Greenford and Andy and Eric started at the motor spares business in Kensal Rise run by Andy's brother, Nick. I was unsure whether those friendships would be life-lasting, but they have.

There is no great moral to this tale, this is not absorbing story with a tear-jerk ending. In fact, it is its unremarkableness (is that really a word?) which makes this yarn worth telling.

We don't meet up as a group of six very often, but we have walked across life's stepping stones together - weddings, the birth of our children, christenings, landmark birthdays, been on holidays, sharing the joys as well as being there for the lows - with an unbroken thread of friendship. When we do meet I regret that we don't gather more frequently, but maybe that is the secret of its longevity.

Saturday night at The Grove, with sleek Ferraris lined along the driveway and plush surroundings of an exclusive golf club once graced by Tiger Woods, was wonderful. We were there with our wives who pander to our eccentric whims, understand the childish behaviour and who have become good friends themselves. The time passed all too quickly in between the most amazing culinary fare. We laughed, we reminisced, we caught up with each other's news.

Maybe we were a little greyer, carrying a few more wrinkles, but the passage of time hasn't dimmed this special bond, the truest of friendships which I know will remain for a long time until the fat lady starts singing.