To my first-born child,

In the olden days, fathers would take it upon themselves to document the growth of their child.

A recent, highly successful television show finished airing a nine-year story about how a man met his wife, relating it to his kids.

And I have access to the internet....

I want to have a written record of what's happening before you can remember what's happening, and one day you can appreciate the adventure you've brought to the lives of your mother and myself.  As you'll probably be aware, my handwriting is atrocious... so this little blog is a good way to get it all down.

Your story begins, long before your birth, at Easter, 2014.  Mum and I attended the National Band Competition in Brisbane with our band Toronto Brass.  It was the year of the dreaded B flat bass test piece Sonata for Bass Tuba, by a crazy guy called Hindemith...

If all goes to plan, it will finish with you being a strong, smart, highly capable person, reading this at some late point in your life.  Maybe I'll be there with you.  Maybe I won't - and if that's the case, I am so sorry.  Regardless of what the future brings, please remember you were loved - from the moment you were an idea shared between your mother and I, until our final days on this Earth.