If there's one thing I've always said, it's that life throws up some unexpected surprises. As does Amelie, in a more literal sense. To be honest, everything about this week has been a shock. Not only the jury summons, but also the recurrence of my prostate pain which woke me up at 4am on Wednesday night and stopped my brain working yesterday. Then there was the letter from the bus company exonerating their driver completely, and the card from my aunt to say that she reads my blog every day on her iPhone. She's almost 78. By the time you add in the wave of vomit which swept down the hallway last night, and the fact that I'm at home on a Friday morning, you have quite an unexpected week.

The letter from the bus company arrived on Wednesday, and came straight from the managing director. He informed Lisa that he's "now had an opportunity to fully investigate the journey you had on one of our buses", before casually describing the 28th of April as "that rainy day", in the way you do when you're trying not to accept blame for someone slipping over. He then tells Lisa that he's examined the CCTV footage, and noticed that "you were able to recover yourself quite quickly and take your seat and our driver was not aware of what had happened as at that time he was looking in the offside mirror to pull away from the bus stop and continue the journey".

As it happens, Lisa also cried out in a loud voice, so he must have been deaf too. It's a shame Lisa wasn't, as she could have been spared his swearing later on. Anyway, Roger French, Managing Director of the Brighton and Hove Bus Company, very much regrets that Lisa had this experience. But not enough to give her a free bus ticket or any compensation whatsoever. I think I preferred the letter from my aunt.

Anyway, the reason I'm not currently wrestling diabetics on a Friday morning is because I've taken two days annual leave in order to attend a party in Suffolk. This party to be exact. It's been planned (and looked forward to) for months, but sadly - very sadly - we've taken the decision not to go. The reasons are many and various, and we're blaming it quite a lot on the kittens, but Lisa's also been diagnosed with anaemia, and is feeling as rough as... well, as rough as an anaemic woman who's seven months pregnant in a heatwave. She's struggling to reach the kitchen, never mind East Anglia. So two nights away, and a six hour round trip, just seems too much to bear, and we've been forced to reconsider.

Ironically, however, the events of last night mean that we might not have gone anyway. I picked up Amelie from nursery at 5pm yesterday, and arrived to find her in the garden, in tears. It transpired that she'd just fallen over whilst sprinting across the yard at speed, and had badly grazed her knee and elbow. It took a few minutes to calm her down (and fill in the nursery's accident form), but even as I led her outside to the car, she said to me "Daddy, I just can't stop crying".

So I took her to Asda for some strawberries. They're like therapy for post traumatic stress disorder. Especially if you have five accidents a day. We got home shortly afterwards, I rubbed Savlon into Amelie's wounds, and she seemed fine for the next hour or so. Until five-to-seven, when Lisa led her into the bedroom to choose a story. At which point the projectile vomiting began.

It was a bit like the moment Shimmy gave birth: shocking and slightly distasteful. With no warning whatsoever, Amelie threw up three times in her bedroom and the hallway. She hadn't complained of feeling sick, and yet there we were, standing in a vast lake of vomit. And judging by the quantity, she has a stomach like the tardis. I've never seen anything like it.

Our current view is that it was some kind of heatstroke. She was adamant she hadn't bumped her head, but she had been outside all afternoon in the sun, running about at speed and getting hot. Within an hour she was fine, and she seems back to normal today. In fact, she's consulted a doctor this morning...


... and the only danger to her health appears to be her tendency to block her airways with cellophane. But having spent an hour clearing up vomit last night, I'm not sure I'd want to pack her into the car today for a three hour drive to north Suffolk.

So we're taking her to Monkey Bizness instead. That'll really make her sick.