It's a group of God-fearing Christians!


The faces have been blurred to protect the innocent. Or maybe Lisa's sister just couldn't keep the camera still. But despite being no more than a fuzzy blob, you can quite clearly see that I'm now fully indoctrinated in the ways of the church, and ready to step in and give spiritual guidance to my three young godchildren at a moment's notice. I started by telling them the good news of Christ. Which is that Jesus wants them to stand up straight and smile for the camera, instead of running amok in the pews.

But anyhoo, yesterday's christening went without a hitch (so it's a good job it wasn't a wedding). Obviously, given the choice, it would have been nice to have had more than an hour's notice that Lisa's estranged father was unexpectedly driving down from Sheffield for the occasion, but you can't have everything. It kept us on our toes anyway. Apart from when Lisa fainted.

The good news is that I managed to hold a candle without setting fire to the hymn books, laughed at all the rector's jokes, and successfully confirmed my beliefs in a convincing manner. As a result, I'm officially the godfather, and I have the certificate to prove it...


I'm not supposed to have the certificate, but Lisa and I accidentally walked off with it after the service.

Having posed for photos, we left the church via the offering plate, into which Lisa's Mum placed a fiver, I added 20p, and Lisa put nothing at all. So there's no way she's going to heaven. She claimed she didn't notice it, but the Baby Jesus knows when you're lying.

From there it was back to Lisa's sister's for tea and cake. I have to say I admire Lisa's sister. It doesn't matter how her home-made cakes turn out, she just won't give up making them. I like that kind of resilience. The last one looked like a cross between a Jaffa Cake and a molehill (and I got into trouble for saying so), but this one raised the bar even higher. To be honest, when your cake hasn't really risen, I'm not sure you should cover it in white chocolate and cream. It does tend to look like a cowpat in custard. But ironically it tasted very nice. She just needs to blindfold people before they eat it.

So having enjoyed our afternoon tea, we headed home to rescue Marie from the clutches of Amelie. I think they'd had a good afternoon, but Marie hadn't managed to eat the pizza, which is what it's like when you've got a baby. No wonder Lisa's lost weight. I drove Marie to the station in my own version of a fire engine (a Skoda with smoke coming out of it), and returned just in time to welcome Lisa's father for a short visit. So Amelie's now met her grandfather. We took a photo in case it doesn't happen again.