Someone said to me the other day that people don't photograph their second child as much as they do their first. Judging by the past week with Shimona, I'm not sure that's true. Admittedly, I don't expect our new baby to set up home in the tumble dryer...


... but even when she's just lying asleep on the sofa, she's being constantly snapped by either me or Amelie. It's verging on harassment. On this evidence, our unborn child might need a restraining order.

But tumble-tots aside, I successfully made it up to Horsham today and sniffled my way through a clinic. I don't really have much to say about that. Mainly because my throat's too sore. I think I need a holiday.

As for my last day off work, that was spent very pleasantly yesterday, with a visit to our good friends Stefan and Andrew. To be honest, I don't have much to say about that either. Not because it wasn't lovely, interesting and stimulating, but because most of what we talked about can't be repeated. At least not without the threat of legal action. But fortunately a picture paints a thousand words, so here's a paragraph or two...


What I can say is that if you want someone to spray-paint a cake silver, then Andrew's your man. Stefan baked us a home-made banana cake, which despite being richer than Rockefeller, lacked a certain something. Namely a metallic sheen. So as the Johnnie Cradock to Stefan's Fanny, Andrew got hold of some edible spray paint, and coated the whole thing in silver. It gives new meaning to the phrase 'plating up'.

After the last time we saw them, we were naturally cautious about accepting any offers of food, in case it contained vacuum-packed bird offal, but as it transpired, the cake was very nice. As were the biscuits I kept eating when no one was looking.

In addition, Stefan and Andrew were their usual generous selves. Not only did they let Amelie share their wind-up racehorses and Bugs Bunny DVDs, but they also gave her a goody bag filled with crayons, colouring books and a personalised CD of Amelie-related songs.

Apparently they do lots of different ones. But not Phil or Lisa. You have to draw the line somewhere.

It's very good though. She's insisting on listening to it at full volume as I type this, which is slightly distracting. It's one thing having your daughter playing loud music in the living room, but somehow worse when all the songs are about her. Mind you, I suppose it's no different to me playing 'You Sexy Thing' by Hot Chocolate.