Happy birthday, Andrew

My son Andrew is 12 today. Next week he starts secondary school. He's become quite a little adult. (Cue "Sunrise, sunset" music.) Is it really 12 years since I first held him in my arms? It seems like yesterday. On the other hand, it's hard to remember what life was like when he wasn't around.

I've been making use of his services during the long summer holidays. He's set up a Paypal account for me, built my shop blog and created a pdf of my Amsterdam Pub Guide. In return, I've been starting to train him up in beer tasting. "That funny grapefruit taste is from American hops, Andrew. See how it jars with the coffee-like roastiness." A couple more years and I can teach him about jenever.

For someone still several years away from his first legal drink, he has an impressive number of beer festivals under his belt: Peterborough, Bokbier, Meibok, Essen Kerstbierfestival, ZBF, Berlin, Bruxellensis, Hasselt (and the Hasselt Jenever Festival, too), Annafest and probably a few more I've forgotten. Why do I take him along so often? Because he likes travelling. It gives me someone to talk to. He can guide me home if I have a beer or twenty too many.

I demonstrated to Andrew how a hydrometer works on Tuesday. I still have one lying around from my homebrewing days. First we measured water, which, irritatingly, came out to 1005. After adding a teaspoon of sugar, it was 1025. Lexie's orange juice was 1045. Then I had an idea. "I wonder what the gravity of St. Bernardus Abt is? My guess was 1020-1025, something like that. Guess what it really was? Just 1010. Not much more than Amsterdam tap water.

What will Andrew be like after his next birthday? That's when he becomes a teenager. I have a fear that, like Harry Enfield's character, he'll turn into a surly, mumbling, lazy, uncooperative, little git at the stroke of midnight. You never know for sure what's going to happen when the hormones kick in.

I suppose I'll just have to appreciate Andrew's good nature while I can. Before he says "I don't want to sit in a smelly old pub all day, dad." There's bound to be a point where hanging around with his old dad is too embarrassing or dull. Let's hope we get another four or five years together.

Happy birthday, Andrew.