Archived entries for Parenthood

“The next tune to arrive on platform three….”

It’s been great to be back in the UK for a little while over Christmas, catching up with family and friends. A couple of memorable moments included:

Seren being too quick for us and falling down the stairs at my parents’ house. “I’m going downstai-” Thud thud thud crash. Luckily the stairs were carpeted and she was fully dressed with jeans on so she was fine.

From a young Dad and friend of ours, listening to an absolutely hilarious blow-by-blow account of childbirth, told at lightning speed, on the way home from the pub, with both my brothers looking horrified with every extra bit of detail they really didn’t want to hear.

Sharing recommendations about local ales in a tiny pub – I didn’t spend all my time drinking, honest – with a random chap at the bar. “It’s a very consistent ale, that one. You can go anywhere in the country and if they have that ale, it’ll always taste the same.”

Golden Pippin


Drinking whisky – honestly, I was sober for some of the time – while watching a fantastic adaptation of William Boyd’s novel Restless on the BBC.

Zoe and I watching a stunning sunset across a Hampshire field, while getting soaked with rain. Some very impressive dawn skies too.

Hampshire sunset

Hampshire sunrise

Hampshire sunrise


Listening to a stranger playing some pieces by Ludovico Einaudi on the free pianos that have been installed in St Pancras station in London. A lad was just walking by with his girlfriend, spotted the piano sitting there and started to play. A beautiful, spontaneous moment which had Seren and I enthralled for a good 20 minutes. Possibly the first and last time I will hear live, classical piano mixed with loudspeaker announcements about the next train.

Morning has Broken (my delightful sleep)

“Wake up, Papa! It’s Time to go downstairs.”
“…grrrmphh…wha? What time…? It’s much too early…”
“It’s not too early.”
“Yes it is. What time is it?”
“It’s half past six.”
“You always say it’s half past six. What’s the real time?”
“Time! Time to go downstairs!”
“It’s five o’clock in the morning. I need some more sleep. Downstairs later.”
“Not downstairs later. Downstairs now!”
“In ten minutes…shhh! Listen! What’s that noise?”

This is followed by me being as quiet as possible in the hope that my daughter Seren (aged 2) will magically fall back into a deep sleep. She knows exactly what I’m trying to do. The next thing I notice is not the gentle sound of a sleeping youngster but instead two little hands trying to pull me out of my own bed.

“Er, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Seren’s bed.”
“No, Your bed is in your room. This is my bed and I’m staying i-”
“Light on!”
“No, light stays off. If you switch it on, Papa will go blind. Will you leave the light alone if I go downstairs and get you some milk?”
“Yep.” (She giggles. Those confident giggles you get when you know you’ve won.)

So the day begins.

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