Another rite of passage for my sons - or rather for the eldest, Leo - today. They come thick and fast at this age. He's starting his GCSE examinations, on which so much depends. He's been working very hard for months now and I really think he deserves to do well. It does take me back to my own schooldays, when they were called O levels. I can so easily remember sitting, revising and working, on glorious spring evenings, as we have had this month and gazing from my bedroom window at the sunshine and just longing to be able to go out with my friends. As Leo has been doing. Why do we have to have the most important examinations co-inciding with this glorious time of year - and the time in a teenagers' life - when they are just developing a serious social network. How did that happen? Re-schedule examinations for the winter months and watch the pass rate rise, that's what I say.
And, while we are on the subject, another rite of passage is looming. Leo wants to go to Glastonbury. Oh dear. Cue big discussions with him, and with his mother. At not yet 16, I'm inclined to think he's a bit young, but subject to some promises and strict rules, I suspect he will end up going and we'll keep our fingers crossed. The liberal parent will prevail. At least my niece, a festival veteran at 27, will be around, somewhere in the mud, if there's a crisis. I never did the festival thing when I was younger and don't much care for it now. I remember, back in the early '70's, some friends returning from one of the very first Glastonburys: still spaced, still covered in mud. Not for me. Yes, I know its different now, but I've never fancied sleeping in a tent, walking miles for the loo in the middle of the night or going without a shower for three days. And as for prospects of eating decently....well, thanks, but I'm not going to pay outrageous prices for endless boxes of takeaway noodles or tofu burgers. I'm happy to watch it on the television (although I miss the comforting presence of John Peel) and with my own food to eat...