I went out for lunch with my friends Steph and Paddy. I hadn't seen Paddy for three and a half years. He was
two and a bit when we last saw each other and now he is almost six. I was prepared for him to be a lot bigger, but it was still a jolt to see this grown-up boy, rather than the toddler I remembered. Children do tend to help us mark out the passage of time, especially if we only see them every now and again. He's like a real person now, with a rather charming and unexpected obsession with the terrible 1980s band "Dire Straits", who the only other fan I personally know is the comedian Will Smith. At least Paddy is only 5 though, so he has some kind of excuse. And I imagine the obsession becomes less charming if you have to live with Paddy and listen to his Dire Straits CDs and watch his Dire Straits videos. This is one of the consequences of parenthood that no-one tells you about. You are inviting someone into your life with no idea what tastes they will end up having and which you will end up sharing. Still, I think it is a slight step up from his previous
Old Macdonald obsession. But maybe not. Though I admire anyone who loves what they love and is not swayed by what might be seen as trendy or cool. Even when he told me Dire Straits were cool and I told him that was one thing they definitely weren't, he stood up for them and for his own right to believe it is true. That is all anyone can ask. And when he said "Dire Straits are cooler than Girls Aloud", I had to concur with that.
After lunch we walked along the South Bank and then stopped off for a coffee. Whilst his mum was buying the drinks, Paddy and I found some seats and ended up sitting next to two pretty young women in their early twenties. I realised that a five year old boy is quite a good wingman to have if you are interested in talking to women. They immediately started talking to Paddy, who had a large caramel slice which they foolishly bet that he wouldn't be able to eat. Soon we were talking to them about Dire Straits, which would have been embarrassing if I had brought it up, but was disarmingly lovely when the subject had been introduced by a small child. He was keen to know the women's favourite Dire Straits tracks. But we moved on to other subjects and within minutes Paddy (and by proxy me) were friends with two hot women.
Steph turned up with our drinks, ruining everything, but we still carried on chatting. Paddy knew a joke that he wanted us all to do in turn where he asks "What's the secret of great comedy?" and the other person says "Timing" while he's still asking. It was going very well and he was enjoying making the girls laugh. I though chose to say "Timing" directly after the question, which was of course wrong and he chastised me. Then he tried again and I left the word "timing" until much too late, telling him it would have been even funnier if I had waited about five minutes until we were talking about something else. He got it and found it funny. Soon enough though the women had to leave and I told Paddy he had talked about Dire Straits too much and ruined everything.
His mum though did acknowledge that if I had Paddy in tow with me everywhere I went then I would meet a lot of women and maybe manage to get a girlfriend by exploiting his cuteness and lack of shyness. He has yet to get to that awkward stage where talking to women he doesn't know will fill him with embarrassment and dread. I am still waiting to get out of that stage.
Shamefully I said that for the plan to work though I would have to pretend to be Paddy's dad and for it to really work we'd have to say that his mummy was dead. Paddy, God bless him, completely bought into the scheme, acting out what he'd do, hugging me and saying "I love you daddy!" and adding "I miss mummy" and with my prompting, "But daddy has looked after me so well." I don't think a woman on earth would be able to resist the allure of this and the only downfall I can see with it as a plan is that once they were my girlfriend I would have to try and come up with some explanation as to why Paddy didn't live in my house and why there were no toys or kids' things around (apart from my own toys). But I am sure I could come up with some explanation or maybe just hire Paddy out from his mum and pretend he lives with me. I am sure we could keep up the subterfuge for the fifty years until my new wife died, then we could drop it.
It's hard to find a good woman when you're my age and I have to use whatever weapons are at my disposal.
