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It occurs to me: if I had been more complete in myself, I would have been a much better dad.

But I wasn’t.

Most of my peers knew exactly where they were going aged eighteen, if not earlier. University was just a means of getting there.

Me? I hadn’t a clue. And nor for years afterwards. It took me ages to grow up and find myself. But by then, it was much too late.

Really, I’m a rubbish dad. When I compare myself to the deeply engaged dads I encounter out and about, in town, at school, in the park and countryside.

Do I get up and go? Do I take the kids mountain biking? Do we play sports together? Do I mentor and coach? Could I even?

I’m more boy than man, still struggling. And the kids know it. Maybe I was convincing when they were small, but not anymore.

But it all hits me much too late.