NORTHERN PLANNER

One of the easiest ways to see if you, or those around you, have changed is to keep to annual rituals.

How we change is rarely sudden, it is so gradual we don't notice it happening right in front of us. Even the big shocks that lead to supposed massive adjustments, in reality they tend to expose what was already there, we just hadn't realised yet. 

It's only when you come back to something that doesn't really change, that you notice you have, or the ones you love.

If you've ever visited your old primary school and found yourself astounded at how small it is, you'll know what I mean. 

The regular things, the yearly Christmas get together, the annual family holiday, this is where the gradual changes suddenly reveal themselves. 

Every August I take the children to St Ives to stay with my parents. This was the first time we'd gone a as three rather than four, yet we still fell back into the usual routine, which mostly consists of endless hours in the sea.

One big thing is the adventures in the biggest waves we dare.  

It's a long time since the ten year old felt the need to hold onto me, he doesn't fear the waves, he attacks them with the confidence of a grown man.

My little girl though. This year I realised the girl is imperceptibly slipping away and the young women is coming. 

Only a year ago, she'd cling to me, so brave yet so reliant. Its quite a thing to feel your own strength as you protect your youngest child from the elemental force of nature to remind yourself what it really means to protect someone. 

This year, we wade in, holding hands. We dive under the the first few like I taught her. Then we're out amongst the large ones. The boy is like a sleek seal in his wetsuit, jumping up and into the bigger ones without hesitation. Like me, he seems more adept in the water than out of it.

I move behind Evie, hold her by the waste, like always, ready to brace her and hoist her up. Yet she wriggles away. "I fine Dad!"

She's furious. I'm not, I'm crushed. I know what this means.

The first big one comes. She dives straight through it, then shoots me he favourite 'told you so' look.

Then the next one flattens her.

No word is said, there's no need. The little hand goes into mine again. That's as far as it goes though. 

Next year it won't be there.