Hakuna Matata

What better way to spend a grey, wet Sunday with family, than a trip to the cinema to see The Lion King.

Snuggled into our seats, we contentedly munched away on popcorn, as Mufasa proudly presented his cub Simba to the animals of the Pride Lands.

How many fathers have stood on the touch line, watched their son score a magnificent goal, and wanted to raise them upon their shoulders and howl, ‘this is MY son, the fruit of MY loins, bend thy knee in his magnificent honour!’

This morning, my youngest daughter, Elizabeth, gave me my very own Mufasa moment.

Skipping into my bedroom, she bowed, placed her red and white striped school tie around her neck and tied her very first half-Windsor knot.

Here she is in action.

Oh! how I wanted right then, to carry her to the top of Otley Chevin, rub bilberry juice across her head, and roar to all and sundry that the baton of sartorial elegance has been passed on.

Even better, I know it will irritate the hell out of my brother Edward, who despises the half- Windsor with a passion, and is unable to consider anything other than a four-in-hand.

When it comes to life, I believe there is a path for each and every one of us, that will lead to happiness and self fulfilment.

The trick is to listen to the voice that speaks inside us, and follow our hearts.

Whilst my father, John, was told by his father, Ernst, that he had to run the family textile business, I was allowed to find my own path.

But as the saying goes, ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’, and with my mother’s love of clothing and my father’s business acumen and salesmanship, it’s not the craziest thing I’ve ended up with a bespoke tailoring business.

DNA has a lot to answer for.

After the movie had finished, we walked back to the car through Victoria Gate Shopping Centre for a spot of Retail therapy.

Dancing and skipping with sheer unadulterated joy, Elizabeth stroked the soft cushions in The White Company, and stood captivated at the sparkly dresses displayed in the shop windows.

Speaking in a wistful and serious manner, she looked up to my wife, pulled her sleeve and said, ’Mummy, I feel very at home here.’

Long Live The King!