4 months, 2 weeks & 3 days into Daddyhood

Two illustrations of this, in the very loosest sense of the term, “theory”…

[ 1 ]
I used to go “exploring” on my bike – which consisted of riding around for hours, in and beyond my local neighbourhood of Liden, Swindon, scootling off down street after street I had never been down before, and somehow, at the end of my “exploration,” before my mum/dad had called the police, I ended up back home…

[ 2 ]
We regularly went on family outings to Savernake Forest, during which, after the inevitable picnicking and so forth, my brother and I would run off into the forest (I don’t think it was a small forest, although it is possible my perspective on this is skewed by the Spectacles of Childhood, whereby everything seems much bigger than it actually was), pretending we were on Endor in Return of the Jedi or something… and again we would somehow return to “base camp” before our parents called the police…


Or is my memory of these events so utterly corrupted that I don’t recall (or don’t want to recall) the sheer mental anguish my sibling and I put our progenitors through, involving the calling of police, air rescue services and so forth?

And then I think how horrified I am at the thought of my darling Talise going on “exploratory” bike rides or running off into the depths of a forest! I reckon by the time Talise is of an age that she wants to get up to such shenanigans, if I don’t opt to keep her on a leash no more than twenty metres in length, tied to the front door or the car if we are on an outing (perhaps one of those retractable ones you get for dogs), I will be permanently keeping track of her movements on Google Earth… 😐