Most parents will have been horrified at the 12-year-old’s jaunt, but I like to think he did it on behalf of all us more timid souls
When Jonah, my four-year-old son, gets in a bate – usually either because I’ve put cheese on his pasta, or because I haven’t – he is prone to stomp to the front door and announce: “I’m fed up with all of you. I don’t want to be in this family. I’m going to live somewhere else for ever.”
By “somewhere else”, it turns out he means “on the front doorstep in East Finchley”; by “live” he means “stand sulking”; and by “for ever” he means “45 seconds”. There’s my little chip off the old block! He really has inherited his father’s rugged individualism, defiance of convention and hunger for distant horizons.