But my daughter, Kate, is settling in splendidly in her first term at Cambrige, studying for a tripos in social and political science. Last week she rang rather nervously as she was occupying one of the science blocks as part of a nationwide 'stop the war' demo and, fearing she was just about to get arrested, wanted some instant legal advice. In the event the university proctors turned a blind eye and everything cooled down, but it was her first experience of non-violent direct action and she loved it (even if the hairy anarchists did nothing more threatening than sharing a packet of HobNobs while they squatted on the lab floor!)
She's getting active in the Cambridge Union, but is disappointed because no-one's willing to 'come out' as a Tory and expose themselves to her sardonic and devastating dialectic.
I'm chuffed to bits, particularly as she's the first kid from her comrehensive ever to make it to Oxbridge (complete with the predictably embarrassing piece in the local rag about her success), and it's all been through her own hard work.
As a hugely proud father I realise that my input is largely over - save for baking Red Cross parcels, building endless shelves for her cell-like room and solving computer problems long-distance.
Dominic, who's 23, is more of a mystery and a worry - he's living down in Tower Hamlets and working in the IT department of a large inner-city college, still skating on the thin ice of modern life (he got shot in the face with an airgun a few months back and couldn't bring himself to tell his mother or meself for weeks afterwards) and making intermittent contact.
He's now effectively cut all domestic ties, and I haven't seen him since last Christmas, but would very much like to see him before this one. And maybe one day I'll get him back to Towersey...
So, between the two, I've got the gammut of parental emotions - pride, worry and, of course, unconditional love for both of 'em.