The phone rings, and that moment every father dreads comes crashing into your world like a steroidal bull with a hangover. A voice you have known all your life speaks, deeper now, but still the boy you knew, now a man. His tones trembling, your son says; “Dad, you got to help me….”
I received a call of this kind from my eldest son yesterday. He was obviously in a state of panic. Immediately, my heart leapt into my mouth and all kinds of wild imaginings flirted with the emergency button in my head.