Max's Birthday

My little boy, Max, is one year old today. Happy Birthday baby boy. I wish I was with you. I miss you very much.

Feeling like a bad dad, I agreed to the purchase of a massive (and hugely expensive) climbing frame / double-swing / slide thing for the garden, for his birthday present. It will fill the lawn entirely. I am praying that my father decided not to help put it together - my nascent career as a potter was cruelly and prematurely ended when the shelves he erected in my bedroom collapsed in 1982, destroying my collection of avante-garde sculptures. My Swan with One-and-a-half Wings made the judges weep at the Witton Park handicraft competition of the Summer of 1981.

I return to Shanghai tomorow night with Tony so for our last night in Beijing, we immersed ourselves in Chinese entertainment culture by going to Karaoke with a group from the office and of course some of Tony's network. Amongst other things, I (badly) sang Happy Birthday to Max. This also caused much weeping. Not by me, but by the people who had to listen to it. Karaoke in China (and also in Japan) is a much more civilised affair than a UK pub full of drunkards singing I will Survive. You have your own private, air-conditioned, waitress-serviced room and everyone tries hard to sing properly.

Max, I hope you have a lovely birthday. I will make it up to you next time, I promise. Love from Daddy.