MY first job was a paper round.

It was really my brother's paper round but quite often he couldn't be bothered so I lent a hand.

It was a long trek, more than two miles, taking in two villages, and a bit of an ordeal straight after a hard day at school. But it was also fun.

Paper rounds give a unique insight into a community. Even now, when I go home to my parents' village, I use the nicknames me and my friends - who sometimes accompanied me on the round - gave the houses along the route.

There was the ghost house', a dormer bungalow where we never, ever, saw any sign of life. The curtains were always closed, there was never a car outside, or washing on the line - there was no indication that human beings had crossed the threshold.

In fact, to this day, that house is the same. Maybe I should mention it to CID - it could be the hub of a global takeover by martians.

There was the nude house', a bungalow where, one evening as I delivered the paper, a woman was sprawled naked on the sofa, in full view of anyone coming to the door.

At the Boo Radley house' - so named after the reclusive oddball in To Kill a Mockingbird - a man would peer out of the bedroom window as you walked up the path with the paper, and if you happened to look up, would shoot back at the speed of light. He was never in the garden, even on boiling hot days.

And one house became known as Leapy Lea's', where an old lady would lie in wait and literally leap out of the porch and grab the paper. She wasn't the pleasantest of people, and gave you a piece of her mind if the paper was as little as 10 minutes late - which it was if you bumped into a friend along the way.

Looking back, I enjoyed my brother's paper round, and was dismayed by reports that they are under threat from rules forcing shopkeepers to pay for safety checks to enable them to work with children.

Paper rounds have existed without incident for years, and are, for many children their first taste of work. I always marvelled at those who did the morning rounds, getting up several hours before school, when I had trouble catching the bus much later on. Unlike people on evening rounds, they hadn't time to dawdle, or have a laugh.

At homes with long hallways, I used to set myself challenges, to see how far along I could fire the paper, sniggering at the thought of someone finding it miles from the letter box.

It was good exercise, in fact the more I think about it, the more I fancy having a paper round again. Of course there is the downside of money. I wouldn't say the financial rewards were great - I seem to remember it was 75p a week in the early seventies.

It probably isn't much more than that now so we'd have to tighten our belts somewhat.

But it's something to consider to supplement my pension. And if children aren't allowed to make deliveries anymore, there'll be plenty of vacancies. Unless, by then, shopkeepers need to be vetted to work with old folk.