I think Chloe's putting on weight...


You only have to stick her in front of a 360 degree mirror like the one Trinny and Susannah used to use, and she looks like the bottom half of a snowman. It's a miracle the wicker basket hasn't collapsed. If she were any more of a fat cat, she'd have to go and live with Sir Fred Goodwin. I might have to trim her fur again. It's the only way to make her look slimmer.

But obesity aside, the breaking news is that I've had a brush with success, and I didn't even know it. Back in mid September, when Lisa was the size of a hippo, and Amelie lived in eternal darkness, The Daily Telegraph launched a competition which challenged people to write an online novel and publish it in the form of a blog on the Telegraph site.

Being on the verge of parenthood, that naturally sounded far too much like hard work, so instead I started copying and pasting chapters from the novel I wrote four years ago. I thought I might end up writing some new chapters when I'd posted all of that. As it transpired, I didn't even get around to posting everying I'd written, so it ends kind of abruptly in the middle of a cheese shop in the village Peepel. I like to think of it as a twist ending. The twist being that it's not remotely finished.

The closing date was February 13th, and I've heard nothing since, but frankly I never expected to. My heart wasn't really in it, I didn't want the prize, and I couldn't be bothered to visit the Telegraph site for news. Even the people who commented on my first few chapters soon gave up when they realised I wasn't going to comment on theirs. And let's face it, I didn't even complete my entry.

So, in a twist worthy of someone else's novel, guess what I've just found out? They announced the finalists on March 1st and I made the shortlist. I had no idea. They asked the six finalists to e-mail the Telegraph with their addresses before they decided on a winner, and sure enough five of them did. One of them didn't. So needless to say I didn't win. I've missed out on lunch with Alexander McCall Smith, and a signed copy of his new book. If I'd ever heard of the man, I'd be gutted.