One of my work colleagues has just been away for a long weekend, during which she embarked on a nine-mile canoe trip down the River Wye. She was back at work today though, so she clearly hasn't got the hang of this whole faking-your-own-death lark. She really ought to be half way to Panama by now.

But while my colleagues are wandering Wye, Lisa and I have been taking delivery of a new batch of baby clothes. The lovely Lorraine came round for the evening yesterday with her 4-month-old little princess, Leia, and brought us three bags full of unwanted clothing. Something tells me she went a bit mad in the Next sale. Either that, or she's been teaching Leia 'Baa Baa Black Sheep' and needed a visual aid.

As a result, we now have enough pink fabric in the house to reconstruct Barbara Cartland, and we may never need to go shopping again. On the downside, I'll have to throw out most of Lisa's clothes to make room for it all.

But having spent two hours in her company, I'm pleased to report that baby Leia is quite adorable. She talks a lot less than her mother, but she makes up for the lack of conversation with lots of smiles and general cuteness. I wasn't even put off by the vomit. Frankly, life after September is going to be great. Leia's lovely enough, but my baby's related to Lisa. It doesn't get any better than that.