I have given in. I have surrendered. We finally got a dog. I had always been clear: no dogs. Yet one afternoon — just one during more than 20 years of parenting — I weakened enough to say that while my opinion was strong, my veto was not absolute. By suppertime we had bought a cockapoo.
This was not, it turns out, the only mistake I made. Eden is beautiful (Caitlin Moran describes cockapoos as the Waitrose of dogs) and I don’t regret her one bit. But I do regret that I didn’t impose tougher conditions. My insistence that I don’t have to perform any dog tasks has been respected. Unfortunately, my insistence that I don’t have to perform any household tasks because others are busy with the dog has been ignored repeatedly.
One condition I failed to impose was “No dog television”. I haven’t watched this much dog TV since Scooby-Doo after school. Hours of “can a French bulldog be trained to stop barking at the doorbell?” (plot spoiler: Yes). Then I noticed my wife was giving me pieces of Easter egg. The TV programmes weren’t for training Eden; they were for training me. However disruptive our puppy might be, other dogs are worse. And each time I acknowledged this, I got a bit of chocolate.
Pinner’s Nazi past
I thought I knew Pinner well until my friend Paul Koopman, who was born round here, took me for a lockdown walk. Pointing to a rather Germanic house about ten minutes from mine, Paul surprised me with: “Joachim von Ribbentrop used to live here.” Apparently the Nazi foreign minister had the place built while he was ambassador to London before the war. He later lent it to Goering’s sister. Why did he want a place in Pinner? It’s nice, of course, but the Metropolitan Line would have driven him crazy. My theory is that he liked the fishballs they sell at Noshers in Pinner Green.
Guess the guest list
Keir Starmer has come up with a list of his dream dinner guests. The Arsenal football player Thierry Henry, Nelson Mandela, Barack Obama, New Zealand’s PM Jacinda Ardern and the late US Supreme Court justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg all made the cut. As did Lady Starmer. He didn’t say what he would serve or whether he thought the Henrys and the Ginsburgs would get on. It could have been a lot worse, though. When I edited a computer trade newspaper we used to ask leading industry figures the same question. Once, when I was on holiday, someone chose Miss World and Hitler. I discontinued the item.
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The Eagles have flown
I have booked to see the Eagles this summer. Or at least I think I have. They play Eagles songs but are they really the Eagles? Slowly the original members have been replaced by others, such as the son of their late guitarist. There’s only one member of the original band left. So are they the Eagles? And does it matter anyway? I’ve decided not to let it bother me. Many of the old bands are doing it. Genesis are touring with so many changes they are basically Exodus.
Wisdom of youth
There was a row on Twitter this week about how many police officers were needed to guard the statue of Winston Churchill in Westminster against left-wing demonstrators. I tweeted that no one would have questioned the number if they had been protecting Mandela’s statue from the far right. I became increasingly self-righteous and then checked with my son that I was at least correct. What did he think? “I think, Dad,” said Sam, “that you are spending too much time on Twitter.”