Happy birthday, Isaac. It’s time for my annual birthday letter to you. And this year it’s not just any old birthday: it’s your 16th. Oh. My. God.
Honestly, where has the time gone? It seems like only the blink of an eye since you were setting off to primary school for the first time. Next summer you could in theory walk out of school and never return to full-time education again. Blimey.
1986 vs 2023: The years we turned 16
I turned 16 in 1986. That year, Madonna dominated the pop charts. The UK and France announced plans to build the Channel Tunnel. An upstart tech company called Microsoft started trading shares publicly. (Whatever happened to them?) It was also the year which saw both the Challenger and Chernobyl disasters.
So it was an eventful year, but in truth I remember very little about what I was like back then. I sat my first three O-levels. (Like GCSEs but harder, okay?) I have a fuzzy recollection of it being a happy time in my life. And yet I couldn’t tell you why because I have hardly any strong, specific memories of that period.
By contrast, 2023 has been the year of ChatGPT. Elon Musk’s SpaceX rockets kept exploding, while X (formerly Twitter) has pretty much imploded under his ownership. We’ve had King Charles’ coronation. Endless UK government scandals. Israel and Hamas.
But what will you remember when you look back on the year you turned 16 in later life, I wonder? Will you remember more than me? And will they be happy memories?
Your 16th year has been a big one for you. Attending your first live gig. (SZA at the O2 in London.) Going away for 12 amazing days on an adventure holiday in the Alps. Long bike rides with your brother and on your own in the Netherlands while we were there during the summer. We don’t bat an eyelid any more when you take yourself off to London on the train to meet up with friends. Your life is one big adventure, and you’re seizing it with both hands.
But, unlike previous birthday letters, I find myself less keen to look back on what you’ve done and more interested in what you’re going to do next.
Now you are 16
Turning 16 means you are now legally able to do a lot of things for the first time. You can register to vote in elections. You can get married, with parental consent. (Should the question arise in the next year, the answer is no.) You can have sex. (But you can also be prosecuted for having sex with someone under 16.) You can drink alcohol with a meal at a restaurant. (And so it begins.)
Somewhat more esoterically, you can now also legally buy a lottery ticket and a pet, get a piercing and a gilder licence, and change your name by deed poll. Try not to do them all at once, though.
In last year’s birthday letter, I wrote that I was struggling more than ever to define my role as a father to you. In truth, little has changed these last 12 months. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye and that I’ve been hard on you, and I’m sorry for that. You’ve grown so fast and I haven’t been able to change fast enough to keep up. I know there are times – too many of them – when I have expected too much of you. But please know that this comes from a place of love where I want you to fulfil all the potential I see in you to be so much more than I’ve ever managed.
From this point on, we’re going to get to see who you really are and what your potential really looks like. This is where you get to decide where you go with your life, as our influence on you gives way to your growing independence.
Having said that, when I was 16 I felt like I knew everything I needed to know from my parents already. I was wrong. And while you are far more mature and worldly-wise than I was at your age, I hope I still have some useful wisdom and advice to share with you for a while yet. If you ask, I’ll always be there.
The next 12 months
As you are fond of regularly reminding your mum and me, a year from now you could be the proud owner of a full driver’s licence. But there’s lots else to look forward to first over the next 12 months.
Okay, maybe you’re not exactly looking forward to your GCSEs in quite the same way. And at the time of writing this, you’re hard at work revising for your mock exams, which start next week. I know it feels big and scary to you, and you’re worried about how well you’ll perform. But you’ve got this. We’re confident in you. Your teachers are confident in you. And while this hasn’t yet translated into you being confident in yourself, you really do have every reason to be. You’re smart, you work hard and I think you will look back in eight months’ time and wonder what all the stress and anxiety was about. I know you’ll make us proud. More importantly, make yourself proud.
In February, you and I will be travelling to Barcelona for a long weekend. You’ve really thrown yourself into planning this trip, which I’ve loved watching. If your mum and I have got one thing right, it’s to instil in you a love of travel and exploring new places. I can’t wait for you to see one of my favourite cities for yourself.
More than that, though, I know that our relationship is at its best when we’re able to spend large chunks of time on a one-to-one basis. I don’t know if we’ll ever get the chance to spend such a long period together again, so I’m going to make the most of sharing the experience with you.
Beyond that, who knows what the next year will bring for you? I’m looking forward to finding out. Whatever happens, it will be a big year for you. Fingers crossed it’s a good one.
Love,
Dad