Monday, May 14, 2007

Captured in Amber

Becky on her Twenty-First birthday. Not the best photograph. Hopefully I will get a better shot or two later.

Synaptic Tangents on Parallel Tracks.

It probably hasn’t escaped the notice of my loyal yeomen that I have neglected writing entries over the last month or so. Alas, circumstances have kept me busy with other, less pleasurable, matters. Today though, I should make a special effort. Today is a very special and important day.

Twenty one years ago today, I drove through my first red traffic light. (Note 1) Perhaps I should make it clear that I am not in the habit of jumping traffic lights. Generally one of the benefits of having a half decent imagination is that you can conjure up images of the consequences of such acts. The thing is that this was part of one of the most amazing days of my life.

It had all started the day before. I’d woken up on my birthday to find my wife had gone into labour. (Note 2) Being young, innocent and rather excited, I had this idea that I would pop along to the local maternity clinic, encourage a bit of breathing, indulge in a touch of gas and air and out would pop the most delightful birthday present.

Things don’t always go according to plan. For a start, in my day expectant fathers were kept away from the gas and air.

Displaying a trait that she has continued ever since, Becky decided to hang on a day before arriving in the world. Not only that she decided to make such a big thing about her arrival that her mother-to-be was whisked across the county to the district hospital in an ambulance with sirens blaring and lights flashing. I was left to keep up as best I could – and as I didn’t know where the hospital was, I ended up following the ambulance through the red lights.

Make a wish

It is difficult to explain the feeling of elation I felt at becoming a father. Or to explain the walking on air feeling I experienced for months afterwards – and remember all of this was without the aid of gas and air!

Today, I am just as proud of my little girl. She’s now turned twenty-one. By all of the accepted social standards she is now grown up. Yet she remains my little girl and I love her as much today as I did the moment she stuck her gunky head into the world and started bawling.

Congratulations Becky (yes, I know you prefer to be called Rebecca, but you will always be Becky to me). Welcome to adulthood. I am immensely proud of how you’ve turned out. You have an unconditional love that a father has for his children and not matter what; you will always be my little girl.

From 14th June 2006, the industry standard Crozzy Standard has been applied to footnotes.

NOTE 1: The UK doesn’t have a statute of limitations on heinous crimes. Not only do British criminals have to live with a guilty conscience for the rest of their lives, they also live in fear that the knock on the door isn’t the long arm of the law catching up on their paperwork. I guess I have just made it easy for them. I guess that I should get ready to say sorry and start working on a good mitigation speech. Click to return

NOTE 2: While I remember, I should thank everyone for their kind birthday wishes. I felt a touch low over the weekend and all you kind wishes lifted me. Thank you all. Special thanks to Kerry, Delectable Pet and NikkiD for publicising the event. Normally I wouldn’t want to be reminded I was entering my 50th year, but yesterday all of the goodwill messages were a real fillip. Click to return

My mascot is on hold while Alan Johnston is still held hostage in Gaza.

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