Carpe per diem (or - What Would Howard Beale Say?)

21 years to the day - nearly half my existence ago - unbeknownst to me at the time, was the eve of one of the most momentous - er - moments - of my life. For 21 years ago tomorrow saw the birth of my first born and my life changed forever for the better.

Characteristic of any new parent, I took this as a cue to save the world by pledging my (un)wavering penmanship and a monthly standing order to a smattering of worthy causes. For at the time, those with science and conscience on their side were trying to make the world listen to their cries of ‘global warming’. Whilst the world went back to spraying it’s collectively impressive hair, to the soundtrack of Nero’s fiddling…

My how a lot has changed (hasn’t it?).

But I’m glad to say, whilst I was but a mere boy back then (albeit with a slightly more impressive crop of follicles) - I’m still very much a boy at heart to this day. Not (or so I kid myself) in some commitment-phobic/embarrassing Dad arrested development, but an adventure seeking, life embracing, challenge seeking individual.

And to a larger degree I have my wonderful kids to thank for this. Whilst it’s broken my heart to be relegated to weekend Dad, it’s commonly regarded that this has made our relationships stronger (although my overdraft weaker). I’m very lucky to count my kids among my best friends and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.

Thankfully for all parties concerned, their mother’s do a grand job in planning for their future’s, whilst we suck the marrow out of celebrating the here & now. Living in a fractured family unit has taken the pressure of conformity from me and allowed me to stay true to myself, an implicit lesson and one I hope my offspring absorb through their genes.

I’ve not fallen foul to the trappings of my former spouses - the caravans, holiday villas, property moguldom etc. Regardless of my lacking the means - lead me not into middle class Hell…

By not ticking my way down this List I’ve also avoided the cynical networking of folly such as Golf Club membership; the fabricating of hollow friendships built on the prevarication that you’ve both dreamt since boyhood to spend weekend mornings following a tiny white ball across the countryside like a confused stalker in pimps clothing.

There may be some of you out there that truly enjoy what some laughingly describe as a ‘sport’. But seriously. Take a good hard look at yourself… Hitting a ball as far away as possible, so you can catch up to it only to hit it far away again. That’s like a dog throwing it’s own stick…
Okay, each to their own and tastes/needs change over time, but for me - I’d still rather lay in a meadow watching the industry of ants than fall into building my own decking upon which to host the sub-swingers cult of forced neighbourly barbecues. Maybe I’m just a bit simple. And anti-social.

I’m not sure who wrote the unwritten rules of life, but I’ll always give favour to doing things I ‘like’ as opposed to those I’m ‘obliged’. Not to the point of tardiness or poor personal hygiene, but to secure a quality of life that doesn’t have me constantly looking to the horizon of an annual summer holiday as my one ‘break from it all’.

It’s not that I refuse to ‘grow up’. I do credit myself with a certain amount of personal growth and introspection over the years. But I do refuse to disconnect with that sense of wonder and excitement, the limitless possibility that each day held when we were kids. Life should be filled with things that set you all a-tingle, not ‘Oh, I suppose I’d better’.

My eldest finds herself at an exciting crossroads and I hope that any worries of becoming ‘an adult’ are fleeting. That age equals responsibility to a degree is true. That age equals banality and routine doesn’t have to be founded.

Sometimes we set ourselves mountains to climb, which is fine if you happen to be a mountain enthusiast, otherwise a rather futile exercise for an existence that in cosmic significance is but a gnats sigh.

Let’s not let our enjoyment of our time here be dictated by fragile scratchings across a calendar.
Even if only in some small way, let’s make each day an adventure.

Stay positive.
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