We might miss our shackles

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STEVE CANAVAN: Making a molehill out of Malcolm, my very minor ailment

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The shackles are off in three days time.

My wife and I will have our first child free weekend in five and a half years.

We’re off to the Isle of Wight festival whilst friends and family collectively pull shifts at our place to look after the mayhem.

Don’t get me wrong, being a father is a beautiful thing.

But when I think about the fact that I haven’t read a newspaper properly since 2005, I think we’re due a bit of a getaway.

My mind is boggled by the thought of not having to clean, wipe or keep a watchful on anyone but myself.

What will we do with all the spare time that we are kindly afforded?

I’m imagining lazy lie-ins, maybe staying up beyond 9pm to watch some brilliant live music.

Or (probably) sitting in a slightly damp over-crowded field, drinking warm, extortionately-priced, cider and thinking about how much we miss our kids.