During the closing scenes my novel Invisible Angers of the Heart, It will take place shortly after the 2015 Equal Rights outcome. Marriage Referendum I quote David Norris, who was asked about his ambitions for marriage when it was announced. “It’s a little late for me,” he said. “I spent so much time pushing the boat out that I forgot to jump on it and now it’s out in the open sea beyond the harbour, but it’s beautiful to look at.”

It was a beautiful, humane statement, full of regret, but also an acknowledgment that each of us was born and died in a particular period, and that we can only live our lives within the constraints of that time.

Like marriage, fatherhood is something I grew up assuming I would never experience, and now at 53 I know I never will. I’ve made my peace with it, but I’m glad young gay men and women can do it too. Every expectation that it could be a part of their future The same applies to heterosexuals.

( David Norris’ life in politics: ‘People had the idea that gay people were monsters. I wanted them to see the human being.’Opens in new window )

I would be a great father. I love children, I am good with them and I know how to talk to them. I am thrilled by the enthusiasm of young readers when I visit schools to talk about my books. Their questions can be incredibly random. Questions like how much money do you make, what car do you drive, and do you have a dog are commonplace questions, but some are more peculiar. “Are you friends? David Beckham?” He was someone I encountered regularly. (“We once peed next to each other at a book launch,” I didn’t tell them; I assume she has as vivid a memory of the incident as I do.)

“Do you write so much about World War II because you fought in it?” It showed up more often than I wanted. (“No, the first one,” is my standard response.)

I have a lot of writer friends who are parents, and I see the adjustments they have to make in their lives to maintain their careers while being there for their children, and sometimes I envy them and sometimes I’m glad I don’t have them. to make the same concessions. However, while I’m proud of my 32 years of publishing, whenever I’m asked about my greatest accomplishment, I never get stuck on one answer.

Being an uncle.

I turned out to be quite young, I was 20 years old, and I threw myself into the role with great pleasure. The nephew in question, Jamie, is now 32 and, after a few misadventures in his teens and 20s, has grown into responsible adulthood, running a successful business and enjoying a happy relationship.

Besides being his uncle, I am also his godfather. A few months ago, I attended a family christening where Jamie was the godfather for the first time, and it made me feel old as the hills. Does that make me a grandfather-godfather, I wondered?

( Why did I say no when I was asked to be godfather to my friends’ and family’s children?Opens in new window )

I’m in a WhatsApp group with my nieces, nephews and their partners, and the day before the Christening I sent a message with some advice on how to fulfill the role I’ve spent thirty years perfecting. So I found this.

• Big Box Theory: Kids love gifts, especially if they come in big boxes. The gift itself may be awful, but if the box is big enough, the excitement of opening it more than makes up for whatever cheap tattoo it might contain.
• You should always part with cold hard cash. Since it’s 2024, the kid will probably have some sort of tap-and-pay machine, so bring your debit card.
• It is important to look much cooler than the godchild’s father. There are many ways to achieve this, but having a Vespa that he can ride in as a pillion is a good start.
• Despite the religious connotation of the term, you are in no way responsible for his spiritual development. Honestly, we’re probably all going to hell anyway and we’re going to need someone to hang out with.
• Attend events you have no interest in such as concert recitals, football matches or art shows, say things like “he’s actually a really good singer/football player/artist”, even though he’s tone deaf he can’t tell his left foot from his right and is clearly color blind.
• Take it upon yourself to teach him a musical instrument when he turns four.

• There will be times in your teens and early 20s when you’ll want to lock him in your basement, provide him with enough food and water to survive, until he starts acting like a normal person again, but you’ll resist this. urge and keep loving it.

• Make it clear that no matter how much chaos it causes and no matter how many arguments you have, if you are lucky enough to have a son, you would be proud if he was that person.

If you follow these instructions, after 32 years you will know that you did it right, and there will be very few people in the world with whom you enjoy being as much.

But remember, you’ll still pay for the beers. This never changes.

John Boyne is interviewed about his new novel, Fire, on today’s Ticket