father who is a microlite pilot and between them the train the young geese to follow the aircraft as if it were their mother. When the time was right the girl and her father begin the epic journey across country and of course they make it and there were tears all round both on the screen and on the sofa.

Half an hour later when pyjamas had been put on, milk drunk and teeth brushed I went into our daughter’s bedroom to tuck her in and say good night. Now this doesn’t happen very often these days but in the light of the lessons from the film, I thought the a little father-to-daughter talk was in order. Emma wasn’t keen on them then as a six year old b

When did I stop dreaming?

I love family traditions and even though we don’t have many, I look forward to those times when we do things the our particular family way.

Our top three traditions are:

3) Holding our breath when going through the tunnel near our house. It's not a very long tunnel and as long as the traffic is flowing well there is no danger to life!

2) Watching ‘A Muppet Christmas Carol’ on Christmas Eve: This one speaks for itself really. Hopefully the Christmas chores have been done the turkey has been stuffed and presents wrapped. Everyone snuggles up on the big red sofa and snacks are often taken. And when it’s all over two tired but excited children are taken up to bed to wait for Father Christmas.

1) The Sunday Afternoon Movie: this one is mostly for the winter months or a rainy spring day but there is nothing better than enjoying a combination of our huge red sofa, home-made popcorn and the fluffy throw.

It was after one of these lazy Sunday afternoons when I realised that I might have forgotten how to dream. Now I’m not talking about the dreams you have during the wee-small hours when your brain goes into overdrive and you end up being chased by an enormous rabbit carrying the copy of Tom Sawyer that you stole from the library when you were eleven years old. No, I’m talking about those moments you had when you were a kid when you could stare into space and believe you could be anyone or do anything. You didn’t have all the ‘stuff’ that we grown-ups have dragged with us into adulthood which convinces us that ‘we can’t’. Our ‘dream-gland’ which was so huge when we were kids often shrinks to nothing as we get older.

I grew up in the 70’s and my hero was Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man. With his bionic limbs and telescopic eye he could take on the world and win. I wanted to be like him and the fact that the only reason he was bionic was as a result of a high speed crash didn’t bother a wide-eyed ambitious super-hero in waiting. I have still got a vivid imagination but the pressures of adulthood have narrowed my horizons and tales of daring-do are saved for my kids and these days I am rarely the hero.

It was after one of our Sunday afternoon movie sessions that I realised I was going to have to work hard as a dad to make sure my kids didn’t loose their dream-gland too early on in life.

We had watched the family film ‘Fly Away Home’ where a young girl helps a flock of geese to fly south for the summer. The geese’s mother is killed and they have no-one to show them the way. As luck would have it the little girl in question has a father who is a microlite pilot and between them the train the young geese to follow the aircraft as if it were their mother. When the time was right the girl and her father begin the epic journey across country and of course they make it and there were tears all round both on the screen and on the sofa.

Half an hour later when pyjamas had been put on, milk drunk and teeth brushed I went into our daughter’s bedroom to tuck her in and say good night. Now this doesn’t happen very often these days but in the light of the lessons from the film, I thought the a little father-to-daughter talk was in order. Emma wasn’t keen on them then as a six year old b

ver two tired but excited children are taken up to bed to wait for Father Christmas.

1) The Sunday Afternoon Movie: this one is mostly for the winter months or a rainy spring day but there is nothing better than enjoying a combination of our huge red sofa, home-made popcorn and the fluffy throw.

It was after one of these lazy Sunday afternoons when I realised that I might have forgotten how to dream. Now I’m not talking about the dreams you have during the wee-small hours when your brain goes into overdrive and you end up being chased by an enormous rabbit carrying the copy of Tom Sawyer that you stole from the library when you were eleven years old. No, I’m talking about those moments you had when you were a kid when you could stare into space and believe you could be anyone or do anything. You didn’t have all the ‘stuff’ that we grown-ups have dragged with us into adulthood which convinces us that ‘we can’t’. Our ‘dream-gland’ which was so huge when we were kids often shrinks to nothing as we get older.

I grew up in the 70’s and my hero was Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man. With his bionic limbs and telescopic eye he could take on the world and win. I wanted to be like him and the fact that the only reason he was bionic was as a result of a high speed crash didn’t bother a wide-eyed ambitious super-hero in waiting. I have still got a vivid imagination but the pressures of adulthood have narrowed my horizons and tales of daring-do are saved for my kids and these days I am rarely the hero.

It was after one of our Sunday afternoon movie sessions that I realised I was going to have to work hard as a dad to make sure my kids didn’t loose their dream-gland too early on in life.

We had watched the family film ‘Fly Away Home’ where a young girl helps a flock of geese to fly south for the summer. The geese’s mother is killed and they have no-one to show them the way. As luck would have it the little girl in question has a father who is a microlite pilot and between them the train the young geese to follow the aircraft as if it were their mother. When the time was right the girl and her father begin the epic journey across country and of course they make it and there were tears all round both on the screen and on the sofa.

Half an hour later when pyjamas had been put on, milk drunk and teeth brushed I went into our daughter’s bedroom to tuck her in and say good night. Now this doesn’t happen very often these days but in the light of the lessons from the film, I thought the a little father-to-daughter talk was in order. Emma wasn’t keen on them then as a six year old b

ears old. No, I’m talking about those moments you had when you were a kid when you could stare into space and believe you could be anyone or do anything. You didn’t have all the ‘stuff’ that we grown-ups have dragged with us into adulthood which convinces us that ‘we can’t’. Our ‘dream-gland’ which was so huge when we were kids often shrinks to nothing as we get older.

I grew up in the 70’s and my hero was Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man. With his bionic limbs and telescopic eye he could take on the world and win. I wanted to be like him and the fact that the only reason he was bionic was as a result of a high speed crash didn’t bother a wide-eyed ambitious super-hero in waiting. I have still got a vivid imagination but the pressures of adulthood have narrowed my horizons and tales of daring-do are saved for my kids and these days I am rarely the hero.

It was after one of our Sunday afternoon movie sessions that I realised I was going to have to work hard as a dad to make sure my kids didn’t loose their dream-gland too early on in life.

We had watched the family film ‘Fly Away Home’ where a young girl helps a flock of geese to fly south for the summer. The geese’s mother is killed and they have no-one to show them the way. As luck would have it the little girl in question has a father who is a microlite pilot and between them the train the young geese to follow the aircraft as if it were their mother. When the time was right the girl and her father begin the epic journey across country and of course they make it and there were tears all round both on the screen and on the sofa.

Half an hour later when pyjamas had been put on, milk drunk and teeth brushed I went into our daughter’s bedroom to tuck her in and say good night. Now this doesn’t happen very often these days but in the light of the lessons from the film, I thought the a little father-to-daughter talk was in order. Emma wasn’t keen on them then as a six year old b

de-eyed ambitious super-hero in waiting. I have still got a vivid imagination but the pressures of adulthood have narrowed my horizons and tales of daring-do are saved for my kids and these days I am rarely the hero.

It was after one of our Sunday afternoon movie sessions that I realised I was going to have to work hard as a dad to make sure my kids didn’t loose their dream-gland too early on in life.

We had watched the family film ‘Fly Away Home’ where a young girl helps a flock of geese to fly south for the summer. The geese’s mother is killed and they have no-one to show them the way. As luck would have it the little girl in question has a father who is a microlite pilot and between them the train the young geese to follow the aircraft as if it were their mother. When the time was right the girl and her father begin the epic journey across country and of course they make it and there were tears all round both on the screen and on the sofa.

Half an hour later when pyjamas had been put on, milk drunk and teeth brushed I went into our daughter’s bedroom to tuck her in and say good night. Now this doesn’t happen very often these days but in the light of the lessons from the film, I thought the a little father-to-daughter talk was in order. Emma wasn’t keen on them then as a six year old b

father who is a microlite pilot and between them the train the young geese to follow the aircraft as if it were their mother. When the time was right the girl and her father begin the epic journey across country and of course they make it and there were tears all round both on the screen and on the sofa.

Half an hour later when pyjamas had been put on, milk drunk and teeth brushed I went into our daughter’s bedroom to tuck her in and say good night. Now this doesn’t happen very often these days but in the light of the lessons from the film, I thought the a little father-to-daughter talk was in order. Emma wasn’t keen on them then as a six year old but now as an almost teenager, she would rather do her maths homework than sit and listen to my ramblings. Nevertheless she lay back in her bed and tried to keep awake.

‘You know Emma you can do anything you want to in life if you really put your mind to it’. She nodded dutifully.

‘You know that you can achieve great things if you really try’. She struggled to keep her eyes open and whispered ‘I know dad’.

I continued ‘cause you know Emma, that little girl really wanted to make a difference. So if that little girl can do it….so can you’.

'Thanks dad' she said with a little smile on her face and it was one of those moments as a dad when I felt that I had made a real breakthrough, that that moment was the one that she would remember for the rest of her life. That moment would be the one which she would choose to re-tell in her Nobel Academy acceptance speech.

I leaned forward in kissed her on the forehead, said ‘Night night Emma. Dream big dreams’ and with a lump in my throat and a little tear in my eye I stood to leave her to sleep.

My hand was on the door handle when a little voice came from the bed.

‘Dad’

‘Yes sweetheart’

'You know that you said that if I try heard enough I can do anything'.

'Yes Emma that’s right'.

‘Dad’

‘Yes Emma’

‘Can we get a dog?’

We didn’t get a dog but that film and that conversation has made me want to dream again. To not be limited to what the stuff in my head might say but to dream big dreams and live an extraordinary life.