Lessons in Speaking White Van Man-ese

Preparing for the arrival of twins is a huge exercise. I’m lucky that Charlotte has taken charge of virtually all of it so far. One of our greatest challenges has been in ensuring we have enough space and the right furniture in our house. Recently we borrowed several items of furniture from relatives and gave some back which we had borrowed in the past.

A friend of us kindly lent us a white van from his company recently so we could move some furniture back to my parents’ house outside London. It’s a 200 mile round trip so we decided to make a weekend of it. I haven’t driven many white vans before, but if I know one thing, it’s that it is absolutely vital that certain “white van man” codes of conduct and behaviour must be observed. We were lucky enough to get a van which would house a baby seat for Monty in between Charlotte and me. We had no idea how Monty would react to being up front in a van so we made quite a big deal about having a white van and made sure Monty saw us loading the furniture. We told him we were going on an exciting trip and pretended that having a white van was something special. If he wasn’t seriously impressed he was doing a great impression of an excited little boy. He kept pointing to the van and making excited squeals and ooh’s and ahhh’s.

One of the things fatherhood is teaching me is that it’s possible to make even the most mundane and tiresome of tasks much more fun by just putting in a little thought and effort. So, once we were all aboard I decided it was time to teach Monty how to speak like a proper white van man. Several times I repeated slowly, loudly and clearly the words “Oi Oi!”. At first he seemed a little puzzled as if he hadn’t a clue what “Oi Oi” meant or why anybody would want to shout it out to other people from inside a van. I haven’t got a clue either. But my persistence paid off and before long he was Oi-Oi-ing away like the best of them.

At the end of the weekend we all piled into the van and we slowly pulled away from the house heading for home. My father, who I had told of my teaching exercise, joined in enthusiastically and called in through the window to us “Oi Oi!” as he said goodbye. So imagine how over the moon I was when my brilliant son replied, equally enthusiastically, “Oi Oi!”

Sometimes, just sometimes, they make you so proud.

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