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  • 'Baba - you have to promise to wake up late on Sunday; I have a surprise.'

    6:45 am Sunday morning.

    'Baba - happy father's day!' So much for the lie-in as I admire the output from Craft class!

    The photograph. One of the few sunny Sundays this summer in England, a lane in one of the villages of Kent. Just another middle-aged, balding man, a corporate paper-shuffler by trade, walking with his son.

    I often re-read Garrison Keillor in 'We are Still Married' as he dreams of his grandchildren. 'I imagined them strong and free, curious, sensual, indelibly cheerful and affectionate, open-handed - sympathetic to pain and misery and quick in charity, proud when insulted and modest if praised, fiercely loyal to friends. When you look at the stars, you don't think small. You don't hope your descendants will enjoy your mutual-fund portfolio, you imagine them as giants on earth.'

    My one ambition is to give my son that little thing called 'confidence.' So when I get annoyed or irritable or I say 'no', I look back and feel guilty. Yes, there have to be rules and yes there have to nos but they must be said in the right way.

    I am trying son, I really am and I apologise for not being as good as I should be. Thank you for your Father's Day presents and I promise to be better.
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