Wednesday 14th January

It is a common refrain, from women of course, that men never really grow up.  That boyhood-reviving male camaraderie of the pub or watching football, slouching on a sofa absorbed in daytime TV and boy’s toys.  What they really mean is that on an emotional level men do not share the self-absorbed agenda that most women inhabit.  I was always aware from such an early age that with “growing up” would come responsibility, being the wage earner, the provider, the protector of the family would be my role.  Too many practicalities to worry about to develop the inner child into an emotionally charged grown-up.  And so we boys, masquerading as men, cling to our toys – possibly in rebellion or forced retreat from “the real world” we slink back into an under the table world of toy trains and cars (or in my case my music) and along with that comes the petulant childish behaviour whenever anyone threatens to take our toys away.

And in a seriously nasty world, which it is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore as we hurtle into maybe another massive world confrontation, we find solace in our toys; women in each other’s company – maybe bitching about men or other women – hahaha.  We humans spent millions of years as hunter gatherers; the men going out and killing an animal once or twice a week, the women staying closer to home foraging and looking after the children and the home.  We have been thrust in only a few thousand years into a new world where those definitions are all blurred, roles are confused and “growing up” may be the scariest thing to do.

So, leave me alone in my reverted childhood.  Oh I will perform like an adult when expected, have no fear of that, you won’t be able to tell the difference.  But a child I will remain, in my secret life.  It’s all a game, even “growing up” is just make believe, imitating our parents who in their turn imitated theirs.  We are all children at heart.