Dad’s Life: Kittens and moshpits

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MY wife and I attended a My Chemical Romance concert at the Metro Arena on Tuesday night.

Our 15-year-old son Gabriel attended the same event. But we didn’t go together.

Gabriel went very early – he left the house at 10am and the band didn’t get on stage until 9.15pm – in order to get a place ‘right in the front of the mosh pit.’

I apologise to my older reader (usually my mother) who may not understand the language of the young.

The mosh pit is the bit right at the front, though smelling my son on the way home in the car, you’d have thought he’d spent the preceding few hours in another sort of pit.

He’s been to a few gigs has Gabriel, and has a few more already lined up.

Looking back, I had not attended any sort of rock or pop event until I was about 17 or 18.

I remember seeing the Toy Dolls in what I think was The Old 29 and David Essex at the Empire, and then of course, there was Bowie at Roker Park, but I couldn’t get a ticket. That was about it for me and live music until my late twenties.

Once again, my son’s generation is being given opportunities that weren’t available to us. I’m not jealous, just thankful and a little envious.

Now we have massive names playing more regularly in Sunderland, and this is great for the city and good for the city’s youngsters.

* For the uninitiated, My Chemical Romance are a New Jersey rock band, who were in top form on Tuesday.

OUR new kitten has arrived. Nero obviously feels at home after a week with us – as you can see from this picture of him with my younger son Isaac, 13.

The little fella is a real charmer, and even grumpy Tasmin, our elder cat has fallen for him.

He’s full of energy and stomps about the house as if he’s been part of the family for years.

Isaac and Gabriel are both smitten. They go all soft and gooey with him, and the only time they want nothing to do with him is when his litter tray needs emptying.

There are limits ...

HALF-TERM and a disaster in our house. Our broadband connection has been down for three whole days.

BT has spent the last 72 hours trying and failing to restore our internet connection.

The loss has hit my boys hard. “But what are we going to do?” they moaned in chorus.

“I didn’t realise how dependent I was on it,” admitted Isaac after only a day.

My suggestions of going out to play football, going to see friends, or Heaven forefend, read a book, were met with looks of pure scorn.

BT has promised to send out an engineer to fix their ‘lifeline’ if it’s not up and running by tonight,

By that time I have no doubt my sons will be displaying withdrawal symptoms.