The Mrs has just phoned in from an eighteen-week scan in Chester that I cannot attend because of the lockdown fanatics who run this country. All looks to be fine and young Joshua should, fingers crossed, have a sibling in early November. I can sense that sniggering at the back is starting in some quarters…
Yes, I shall be 53 in January and so, should I live that long, I shall be over 70 by the time my latest child finishes school. If it has a year off, I would be closer to 80 by the time it finishes, by then mandatory, study of gender inequality and colonial oppression at University. It is not quite in the Mick Jagger league but I guess I really am a bit of an older dad. After all, I can start to claim my pension in just two and a half years’ time.
However, I doubt I shall be doing that. Retirement is now somewhat postponed.
As to the important question of the name: it’s not yet decided. Were it a boy, we had decided to call it after my late uncle Chris (Booker). But it appears that it is not. The Mrs thinks that an Indian name to reflect the maternal line would be good and I have, again, suggested Priti but, for reasons I cannot quite understand, that has been vetoed.
Anyway, we have plenty of time. My paternity leave will, fingers crossed, start in early November.