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If my regrets serve any positive purpose at all, it is to have constructive conversations with our children about the future.

Over breakfast in town this morning, just me and them, we talked about the choices that lay ahead.

I don’t remember having such conversations in my time, other than what I interpreted as dismissive reproach for each idea: agriculture, gardening, architecture, graphic design.

But then my parents were having such a struggle with me, the third of three boys, to get me to do anything. And, it’s true, school was a huge struggle for me.

So to our lad, who is adamant he will leave school at sixteen, I must put the reality of life in context. “Once you get to A-Levels, you only have to do three subjects, so choose your favourite.”

I suggest French, Geography and Enterprise. A good choice if you were thinking of going into tourism, for example.

“Fine, but I’m not going to university.”

Whether he does or not, I’m really not bothered. He could equally do an apprenticeship and get a head-start that way.

I’m not going to force him to do what he doesn’t want to do, I tell him. I can give him ideas and pointers, but it’s his life in the end.

His sister is already keen on going into tourism. Her head is more screwed on. She has already cottoned on to the importance of her studies.

Ahead of her, in another year’s time, the choice of studying A-Levels or T-Levels. Perhaps she will go to university, perhaps she will choose the apprentice route, to obtain skills and experience without the mammoth debt.

I am here to support them, I tell them optimistically. They will probably never understand the depth of my sincerity, borne of regrets so palpable.

To my kids I am clear: follow your heart. If our son ultimately decided to train as a plumber or electrician, so be it. I know plenty of builders, after all, who have done extremely well for themselves, living comfortably, enjoying the finer things.

Sometimes I wish I could reboot and start over, pursuing some kind of creative field I would find more satisfying. But by now I have achieved a level of salary that provides a level of comfort that my family would find hard to sacrifice.

So for my part, I am stuck with my regrets. Yes, okay, we could say I did okay in the end, that I sort of got my life back on track. But not without significant difficulty along the way.

I hope that in having these conversations with our children every now and then, they will begin to think about what they could or may become. There’s no reason they shouldn’t go far and achieve much.

At least today’s discussion didn’t end in an almighty strop. Progress on last time. No doubt I was as temperamental in my time; perhaps that’s why the conversations ceased.

Let’s hope these children have fewer regrets than their dad.