I’m a crier. I admit it. I’m also getting worse since I became a dad.
Last time I cried at the movies was Dark Knight Rises, the flashback when a young Jim Gordon puts his coat round the shoulders of a newly orphaned Bruce Wayne. I was in pieces, I think I must be projecting, I just hope when I become a Millionaire and get shot on the way out of a Movie theatre a kindly police officer will take care of my boy.
The London Olympics got me a few times, Mo Farah cuddling his little girl, the hair on the back of my head prickling, voice cracking and of course my wife (who by this point I am now struggling to make eye contact with) is just smirking at me. Then a pregnant Mrs Farah catches up and by this point, well let’s just say if I had mascara on…………
Here is a short run down of things I’ve cried at:
Schindler’s List, the bit in colour at the end. Pretty much any sports person, thanking their parents, Mary Berry on Desert Island Discs (in fact Desert Island Discs gets me a lot, which is funny because I’m usually outside walking when I listen to it.), The Searchers and the end of It’s a Wonderful Life, although you’d have to be a monster not to.
But, I confess, I have a deep fear that I cannot face (and perhaps this blog is my first step.) I have not watched Field of Dreams since my son was born, I know and love this film, I watched it regularly and many times I have welled up. I Just feel that (spoilers) the bit at the end when his dad comes out of the corn field to play catch, might well end me and send me into a pit of tears from which I may never return.