Two weeks (ish) before Christmas. Blimey. We’ve still not put our decorations up, at my son’s insistence. He wants to do them on his last day of school – 20th – as he finishes early. We can then spend the afternoon decorating our home, alongside Christmas music, mince pies, and whipped cream for the mince pies. Lovely.
Bryan and I started to spot decorations in the latter part of November, which felt far too soon for me. I was quite surprised that Bryan wanted to leave it that late this year, given that we’ve usually put them up by now. But he’s growing up, and I’m happy to respect his wishes.
Bryan has been having conversations about his options at school recently. He’s in year 9, and the options start in year 10, so it’s the right time to have the conversation. When I was in year 9 (in 1994 to 1995 – that ages me quite specifically), it was a very different conversation – in fact, there wasn’t as much of a conversation as there is now. I was fortunate to have parents who were very supportive; they were happy for me to do whatever I chose. If I remember, I did history, RE, and drama … there might have even been a fourth, but if there was, I’ve utterly forgotten it. Oh wait, I think it was French.
I’m supporting Bryan in the same way. He’s making the decisions with my support, and I want him to be happy with his choices – as a teacher at his school said this week, give them the freedom to learn what they’re passionate about. Obviously, there are compulsory subjects, but it’s nice to see Bryan happily choosing things he likes – and also making good friends as well.
We’re planning to spend our Christmas with my parents, who live close by, and that’ll be lovely. That’s our family tradition, and I’ve been passionate about traditions. In our first year together as father and son, a lot of it was setting down some routines that we could then repeat each year. Then our second year together, and covid hit – some (a lot) of routines had to go out the window.
We were fortunate to have a support bubble because I was a single parent, and that allowed us to keep a couple of traditions throughout the year. We then had to restart our regular routines after the lockdowns eased out of our lives. All of that was three years ago; I can’t quite process that it was so long ago, but it’s still in living memory. We’ve lived through a lot of living history; Brexit, a pandemic, a hundred Prime Ministers in a couple of years (I think I might be exaggerating slightly. I have a suspicion that if I have grandchildren, they will be studying these events in school – events that I was alive for. Gulp; that feels odd. I’ll have to prepare myself for that; these columns will help me remember what I did during those times.
I’ve come down ill in the last couple of days (thanks, Bryan), so I’m suffering terribly with man flu. It’s surprising how little sympathy I get when I declare that man flu is affecting me terribly, but I never complain – and if people tell you any different … they’re probably telling the truth.
I’m still working on my novel, but I’ve hit a bit of a block. As a result, I’ve gone back to basics on it, and have revisited my notes. I think I need to delve a bit deeper into the background of the characters, and let their motivations tell me how to develop the story.
It’s good to rediscover my creative streak after a break; Bryan is working occasionally on a story in Spanish. I have to ask Bryan to translate for me, as I can understand about three words in the language. It’s great to encourage him in both his creativity and his language learning, and if this makes him think more broadly, then I’m happy a happy dad.
