Met up with my parents today. They are very excited about the baby, though Dad seems to be struggling with what its arrival signifies about the stage he has reached in its life.
"I don't want it to call me Grandad," he said, frowning. "I'm not old enough to be a Grandad."
My father is 64.
"Well," I said, "What do you want it to call you?"
Dad thought long and hard.
"Mister Jim," he said.
I had a sudden vision of my father sitting on a Raj-era verandah, being presented with a drink on a tray by a small child in a loincloth: "Here is your gin, Mister Jim."
I think we'll stick with Grandad.