My father was a sperm donor

The story about the Oxford IT worker, conceived via sperm donor, who discovered that he may have 1,000 half-siblings, spurred me not to awe, but competitiveness.

Ivo van Halen used genetic ancestry tests to identify his biological father and almost 60 half-brothers and sisters living in the Netherlands, where he grew up. Hundreds more are expected to be identified.

To this I say: “Pah, that’s nothing.” For my father, a university doctor, was no less a super-producer. At moments when no other candidates could be found, he would keep Birmingham’s donation system afloat single-handed (apologies…).

Our freezer was often full of bodily fluids awaiting pickup, such that a search for ice lollies had to be approached with caution. (Once, we unearthed a glacial hamster that a house-sitter had stuffed in there to “help us come to terms with death”. It didn’t.)

My mother was entirely unconcerned, merely warning us to avoid falling for tall, curly-haired, eczematous-types from Edinburgh and Glasgow, where father’s generous contributions were shipped, for fear of anything too Shakespearean – or, rather, ancient Egyptian – going down.

Is it terrible to admit that I harbour no great interest in these individuals? I too have subscribed to one of the databases Mr van Halen availed himself of. Have I gone a-hunting? No. As the oldest of five, it is possible that I’ve had enough family. Imagine Christmas!

Moreover, it’s taught me that genetic affinity does not necessarily spell emotional affinity; the only thing my father had in common with his twin was mutual loathing. I’d rather spend time with people whose affection is earned.

Dad was able to keep Birmingham’s sperm donation system afloat single-handed