Hamish Champ: Old age is a-creepin' up on me...

I've been wheezing a lot lately, and not just in my editorial copy (shome mistake, surely. Ed). I mean my breathing has become somewhat laboured recently and I don't know why.

It can't be the fags. In the old days I used to point the finger of blame for my getting puffed out by doing something as straightforward as running up a flight of stairs on WH Wills & Co (cue sound of pin being removed from 'pineapple'-style hand grenade).

Even once I'd eschewed the habit - six years ago - until three years ago I still used to wake up after a night in my local with lungs rattling like a Triumph triple-cylindered bike engine, so that I was sure that it was other people's smoke was giving me jip (cue sound of said grenade rolling down the corridor).

But with pubs now smoke-free - apart from the odd or perhaps not-so-odd hours 'smoke-in' (BOOM!) - what can my iffy chest be put down to? I'm blowed if I know.

Perhaps it's the passing of time, of yet another year last week, one that sees me in the mid-afternoon of my life. After all, within 12 months I'll qualify for one of those life plans where, according June Whitfield, I can put aside a few quid each week for those all-important funeral expenses, but don't worry, I won't need a medical, plus I'll get a free gift when I apply. Etc.

Sure, I'm not quite at the Stenna stairlift stage but I did catch myself yesterday watching an ad for a muscle pain relief gel and writing down the product's name. Such, I suppose, are the signs of the ageing process.

Another is surely walking into a recently done-up pub and finding what looks like to me at any rate to be the equivalent of the living room showroom area of the nearest IKEA.

Now like any punter worth his or her salt I like pubs that are clean and presentable - who doesn't? But there appears to be a creeping trend of refurbing certain pubs to make them look like they should be in Scandinavia, rather than SE1.

I put my aversion to stain-resistant fabrics and wood that looks like plastic down to the simple fact that my ideal pub is either a sticky-carpeted hostelry where the beer and hospitality are more important than what the place looks like, or where a flagstone-floored gaff is complemented by a genial host, numerous cask ale pumps, a roaring fire and an accompanying settle.

It must be difficult for any operator, whether they be a freehouse pub owner or a brewer which wants to put the shine back into one of its properties, to resist thinking about 'modern trends' when doing a refurbishment.

Consumers' impressions are all-important and, in these straightened times, such impressions must hit home early. Lighting, furnishings, even the choice of wallpaper can make or break a pub.

But - and yes, I know I tend to harp on about this - it's the reception one gets from t'other side of the bar that really ​counts, closely followed by the quality of the product the bar person is selling.

It's just I wish pubs and their owners would think about the big(ger) picture for a wee while longer afore shelling out the cash on simply doing themselves up, is all…