It’s a summer night; I walked home without a coat. The night sky still has a tint of blue to it and with a glass of wine I sit by the open window on the cusp of becoming an uncle. I smoke and think and mistake a plane for a shooting star. An uncle, how did this happen? My little sister will be in hospital and induced before i’m even out of bed and at any moment our family with have gained another member. I feel for my dad he doesn’t even look like a granddad, yet, maybe he will suddenly take to the role like a duck to water. The last baby he dealt with was the now grown woman about to take him back twenty-six years to toys, shitty pants and sick covered lapels. But me an uncle? I still feel like a child, I have no grasp on the idea of growing old, what do you do? How do you adapt? I’ll be the weird eighty year old still going to raves dressed as a nineties throwback, all grey hair and glow sticks, raving like a pilled up teenager hoping to god my hip or heart doesn’t give out. Will I make a good uncle? I’m sure I will, at the end of the day I can give it back to its parents, I get the bouncing on the knee, reading stories, playing with toys bit of the whole upbringing. I will thankfully miss out on the sleepless nights and rank nappy filled accidents. In essence its like going to someone else’s party you get to enjoy the hospitality without having to do the washing up. Still if I think it’s going to be weird I can only imagine what it will be like for my sister and brother. She nine months of discomfort and sobriety, him nine months of putting up with just that. I think delivery rooms should have a bar they’d make a killing. But its happening, its on the way, we will just have to adjust to life with a screaming pink sack in it. Regardless of what title it bestows on us from mother to father, granddad to uncle ultimately it is about what they are going to name it? I’ve heard rumour of naming it after someone in the England squad. I was routing for seaman until someone pointed out that he doesn’t play for them anymore. All I can say is that I hope my sister has more sense than to christen it Rio! (Insert Duran Duran jokes here) and that is just if it’s a boy don’t get me started on girls names….