THANKS to the many people who contacted me after last week’s column about the birth of my daughter Ciara earlier this month.
At least 20 readers have told me they were moved to tears by the piece.
I’ve never written anything which has generated such an emotional reaction from so many people.
As a cynical hack I’m tempted to keep mining this rich seam to see if my tales of fatherhood can have Examiner readers reaching for their hankies every week.
But I’ve decided against keeping you up-to-date with every spit and cough of Ciara’s life.
It’s fine to write about the birth of your child – in fact it would be strange for any columnist to let such a momentous event pass without comment.
But, while many people obviously enjoyed reading my thoughts on becoming a father, I’m sure there would be much less appetite to learn about every screaming fit and nappy change in the months ahead.
Ciara may be endlessly fascinating to Jenny and myself, and to several other people who share some of her DNA. But the rest of the world isn’t that interested.
So don’t worry. There won’t be column after column about my daughter’s childhood.
She might be mentioned in passing, she may even be subject of a column once in a blue moon.
But otherwise it will be business as usual. I’m going to carry on as I have done for the last five years, ranting about politics, poor grammar, religion, the monarchy and all the other topics which never moved a single reader to tears.
Let’s just hope that fatherhood hasn’t taken the edge off my anger.
