Mortal

Take a seat, grab a beer* and let me tell you something about having kids.

If there's something that I've felt very strongly over the last few months, it's a strong feeling of mortality. Like suddenly I'm not going to live forever, that one day this ride is actually going to end. Those days of never really thinking about the future, because well, the future is so far away, suddenly end. At the same time, despite feeling mortal, there's also a sense of continuance in that this little boy will hopefully carry on the chain of life and the anglosaxy genes.

Shhhllackkk! There he is, this screaming bundle of joy, bawling in your face, totally reliant on you for everything, totally invading your space and dreams. And no, I wouldn't swap him for all the gold in China (though if you ask me if I'd swap him for an Arsenal victory in the Champions League final, I'd have to seriously ponder). It's just that you have to adapt. Change. Realign your priorities.

I'm not suggesting that you give up on any of your dreams, because I think dreams are hugely important. Shit, I still have lots of dreams, lots of things that I want to and intend doing. Lots of places I still want to visit, beaches I need to sip beer on. It's just that now I feel the clock ticking rather more loudly in the background.

Some of you might say "About time, the git is maturing...". You might well be right. Though frankly, because the clock is ticking, because of the new being, I also feel that this is the time to realise my dreams, to work my butt off, to start getting my life in order.

So, mortality is good. Kicks you into a new phase. And as it's pissing down outside, and I've got maybe 3 or 4 hours until the next bawling session, I'm calling it a night. Mortal or not I need my beauty sleep.

Tick. Tock.

* By the way, I'm beerless now for some 8 days, this is surely some kind of record for an Englishman.