No, no, I’m his dad. His DAD. No of course I’m not offended, though actually it is quite common now, look at Rod Stewart and Charles Dance, he had one at 65. Right, I am a bit older than him – 74-ish – well, only 73 when he was born, wasn’t I, Rory, look at him, you see he doesn’t care, you like Daddy being retired don’t you Rory, more time to play! That’s the wonderful thing about older fatherhood, I was working flat out when I had my first five, you know how it is, you hardly see them for 45 years then suddenly they’re all grown up.
So from my first marriage there’s Jill and, um, Sa – damn, senior moment, her name will come to me, anyway, then I had another three with my second wife, the oldest’s a QC now, lovely brood of his own, not that Rory leaves me much time for the grandkids.
That’s another plus when you have another one in your 70s, how many babies are born with older brothers and sisters who earn more than enough to help out if their dad dies? Only joking, I’m in excellent health, other than the knees and the occasional forgetfulness, Rory’s helping to keep me young, aren’t you, darling?
Oh yes, the older kids are all thrilled for us. Delighted. Well they could see Naomi’s biological clock was ticking, it’s so unfair, isn’t it, the way women’s fertility shuts down, when we men can just go on and on procreating? Well, some of us.
To be honest I’m enjoying Rory so much I’m getting broody again, it seems unfair to deny him a little brother or sister, assuming it’s not too late for poor old Naomi. Personally I haven’t felt this good since I was 65, other than the knees, and even then the buggy is a boon. And of course Rory’s lucky, too, I’ve got so much more patience now, as well as experience. How many of his classmates will have dads who remember rationing? And I’ll still only be in my 80s when he’s doing his history GCSE.
