Back at the beginning of March, I mentioned that "I'm only getting excruciating, crippling pain about once a month now". Which is obviously marvellous news. Except that I wrote it almost four weeks ago. So with timing you could set your clock by, I found myself in agony again last night. It was so bad, I almost had to wake Lisa up just to show her the extent to which men suffer. So as it turns out, it wasn't an adventurous spirit wearing me down all week, it was an inflamed prostate. No wonder I didn't have the courage to wake her up.

Naturally I felt a bit like death warmed up this morning, but like the fool trooper I am, I dragged myself out of bed and down the road. Partly because I had a list of seventeen patients to see before lunch, but mainly because I wanted to buy Lisa's Christmas present. There are less than nine months to go now, so I can't afford to hang around.

Tickets went on sale this morning for a concert which is due to take place in December. I can't reveal any details here for legal reasons (and because I want to wind Lisa up for the rest of the year), but suffice it to say it's the perfect Christmas gift: it's overpriced, won't last long, and is probably not what she wanted. I also need to make sure I don't get her pregnant this month, or we might not be able to go.

Now that I've finished my Christmas shopping, I've got a bit more time to spend socialising on the computer, and I have to say I'm constantly amazed by the people who are on Facebook these days...

I found this little character beaming back at me from the computer screen the other evening. At first I thought Lisa had raised a Cheshire Cat on Farmville, but it turned out to be Amelie. She's currently chuckling into cyberspace from her Aunt's Facebook page. I have no idea when the photo was taken, but frankly she never looks that happy when I'm around.

To be honest though, the girl does have a lot to smile about. For a start, we've just discovered she's a genius. No, really. Lisa was reading The Contented Toddler Years (which is an oxymoron if ever I've heard one) on Wednesday evening, and it said that by the age of eighteen months, the average child should have a vocabulary of between twenty and forty words.

Amelie turns 18 months on Good Friday, so I spent yesterday jotting down every word she says, and here's the result:


That's forty-four. And I taught her to say 'donkey' this morning. Admittedly I'm not sure 'DS' is a word, but she can also say 'Wii'. Usually when going downhill in her buggy. In addition, she often shouts "Gone!" when she finishes a meal, but I forgot to put that on the list. So all in all, she's pushing fifty. I might have to teach her to say 'prodigy'.