“Fancy a quick game of chess?”, Son asked me on Saturday.

I was taken aback: I’d taught both kids how to play, years ago, but neither held any real interest in the game.  Quite possibly because I am a bit too competitive. I thrashed them both, relentlessly, not really allowing them to get a feel for the game. I was always amazed at how often they would fall for Fool’s Mate and I always ruthlessly took advantage.

Neither of them has gone near a chess set in years… to the best of my knowledge.  Daughter constantly has her head buried in various YouTube videos, whilst Son spends as many waking hours as possible, playing Fortnite on his X-Box.

So, when he presented me with another chance  to give him a thrashing, I readily accepted.

He beat me.

In my defence – not the Sicilian one (see what I did there?) – I approached the game with a touch of over-confidence  – having beaten him in every game we’ve ever played.  As such, I was a little shocked when he started playing some good moves.

I suspect a rat: he says he hasn’t been practicing, but I reckon he must have. To just suddenly ask me – out of the blue – for a game of chess, when he hasn’t shown any interest in it for years, is just a little suspicious, in my book.

However, he beat me fair and square.

And y’know what: despite my competitiveness and being a bit of a sore loser, I’m actually really chuffed that he beat me.

I’m quite proud.

Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let him do it again, though.