Although trying desperately to NOT become my father, who wouldn't know his own grandkids if he tripped over them, I have discovered an alarming similarity in my own facial expressions and other mannerisms.
I caught sight of myself, the other day, as I was unpacking a new toy for my daughter, one of those toys that leave all the assembly to you, including the stickers (some prick in product development who hasn't got any kids decided that this would be part of the fun of owning a pink-plastic-glittergel-centre from Barbie) and I noticed how I looked both annoyed, baffled and stupid as I strained to see through the glasses that had slipped down my wrinkled-up nose in an attempt to make sense of the non-sensical instruction leaflet.
It was during the "Insert the compressor assembly until the "O" ring of the compressor almost fits into the top of the gel container, turn the entire unit upside down and hold at an angle while the gel dribbles down the front of your shirt..." part of the proceedure that I spotted my fathers' reflection in the glass cabinet in the corner of the room.
It was him alright, same paunchy face, screwed-up mean-looking eyes, with that same old what-kind-of-rubbish-is-this expression that I remembered so well from when I used to try to play one of my LP records at home.
It stopped me in my tracks, just like the needle arm being dragged off Sgt.Peppers!
Is this what I've become?!?!?!?!
And then I realised that my dad never helped me to play with my toys or choose to spend his Saturday afternoons with me when there was a football match on TV.
It wasn't him! Just someone who looked an awful lot like him.
Thank God!