Happy birthday grandson
Dear Clint (Man with No Name)
At 10.30 this morning I had a text from your Dad telling me Emma had given birth to you in Great Portland Hospital. By chance this is just 400 yards from All Souls, near Oxford Circus, where I listened to the most evocative sermon in my life in 1989 by the late, great John Stott, who credited Viktor Frankl, one of the few survivors of Auschwitz with the popularisation of this quote, by Friedrich Nietzsch, that “he who has a why to live can bear almost any how”.
And you, Clint, are that reason for your Mummy, Emma, and Daddy, my son Edward to live.
For me you’re not the only kid on the block, for I have two granddaughters, Verity and Harri(ette), and already they love you to bits.
We are all family.
The Armstrong family.
But more important than a name is the fact that you and I are part of a worldwide family whose belief is love.
I also know where you were born because for a while in 1983 I used to take an early morning tube to Bond Street, walk to my office at Debenhams, change, and then run to Regents Park past the hospital you’re now in.
Weather wise it’s been a hot day in London, 23°, but I’m sure you’ll have air conditioning in the hospital.
I look forward to meeting you on Saturday.