I have no idea what we will give our children for Christmas, but I know what they have given me over the years – a fascination with sport, where previously team games left me cold.
All of our children are what I’d call sporty, though possibly I’m underestimating how normal it is to enjoy a competitive activity of some kind, whether it’s netball, rowing, bouldering (climbing up artificial rock walls without ropes) or football.
I’ve been a lifelong sports refusenik. “Malco”, some of my crueller friends called me at school – “malcoordinated”. After rugby matches, in which I’d avoid contact with either my fellow players or the ball, I used to smear mud on my knees to head off sarcastic comments to “Brown” from the teacher.
