Dan Morris: Show business and snow business

This Monday I had the pleasure of interviewing Alistair McGowan (once of BBC One’s ‘The Big Impression’) regarding an exciting upcoming event in the region (watch this space). My darling two-year-old sproglet however took this as an opportunity to make her journalistic debut, bursting into my office and gate-crashing proceedings at her usual one million decibels.

When daddy explained what he was up to, this had something of a red-rag-to-a-bull effect, with my daughter then persisting with even more gusto in treating the renowned impressionist to her best ‘Brian Blessed’.

It was very much akin to all those years ago when Professor Robert Kelly was explaining South Korean politics live on the BBC, and his dynamic duo of progeny decided it was their moment to shine.

My little minx has never been one to shy away from the limelight, and now it appears she has a taste for storied company.

Mr McGowan, I thank you for your grace and understanding, and I’m sure you will be treated to a bombastic repeat performance should our paths cross again.

Truth be told I was rather proud. If you want to make your voice heard, start from a young age.

The cold has been biting this week following the promised snowfall, and said flakes from the heavens were indeed another thing that put the magic of children into the spotlight for me.

On hearing of the pending precipitation, I went into typical cynical, grumpy-old-bloke mode. “We’ll have to get up earlier to defrost the car. That’ll do wonders for the heating bill just after crimbo”, etc. 

And then, I quickly had a word with myself. 

When the snow finally fell it didn’t do so in great quantities around my particular neck of the woods, but there was enough of it to truly enchant Little Miss Morris.

She’d seen snow before, yet perhaps had been too young to really appreciate what it was.

On stepping outside last Sunday morning, her eyes sparkled at the sight of the white blanket adorning the garden. This simple meteorological change to the norm had created a brand-new canvas for her imagination and an entirely different wonderland for her to explore.

Watching my daughter enjoy the simple change in the state of water made me truly ashamed to be such a grown-up. When on Earth had my default setting changed to ‘miserable curmudgeon’?

There are plenty of people who do have the right to be irritated, anxious and bitter over snowfall.

It’s a bane for farmers, construction workers, lorry drivers and all manner of other professionals crucial to our country’s well-being (at least farmers have nothing else to worry about, eh Keir?). I, however, don’t work in a job that gives me that right to grumble, so why, indeed, was I?

It can be easy to tune your inner channels into doom and gloom, particularly in January when spirits aren’t generally at their highest.

Human emotions and moods are contagious, and with that (though this is easier said than done) I think it behoves those of us who don’t have so much to worry about at the moment to try and be upbeat to help those that do.

With this, I am resolved this month to look to my daughter and other terrific toddlers for inspiration, and to try and recapture some of that ‘joy in everything’ that often gets lost along the way as people grow. 

She may, last year, have been too young to appreciate snow for what it is.

Somewhere along the road, I became too old to do the same. That stops now.

From the moment she was born, I have always said that my little tinker will teach me more than I will ever teach her.

If she can help my inner child become an outer child once again, I will be eternally grateful to her.

My suspicion is that she won’t accept ‘no’ for an answer in this regard anyway.

My father has always said you should have an eight-year-old in every corporate boardroom in the world. I think he may well be right.

See you next week, ladies and gentlemen. For now, I’m going to go and play…