August 2007 Archives
My eldest son, Sam, is clearly thrilled to have been offered a place at his first choice university.
Why wouldn't he be? He's been working towards his ambition of studying film and media production for the past three years or more.
But as freshers week approaches, there's a hint of panic in the air. . . for both of us.
The dawning of a new era is imminent in the Oxley household. . . our eldest is off to uni.
Next month he'll be hundreds of miles away surrounded by strangers in a strange city and preparing for a life of hedonistic excess and junk food.
What is it about my demeanour as I stroll through the streets of Newcastle that makes complete strangers look at me and think to themselves. . . 'that man needs a conservatory' ?
I've had some interesting excuses for turning up late for work over the years, but this week I topped them all. I had to bury a hedgehog. Beat that, if you can.
We had rescued him a couple of days earlier, although I use the term 'rescued' lightly. What we in all probability did was simply delay Sonic's impending death.
I live in fear of The Overhang. I'm noticing it more and more on men of a certain age - that incredulous bulge spilling out over too-tight trousers.
It's an odd fact of life that while men's waistlines inevitably expand with the passage of time, their actual trouser size remains constant.