As mentioned last Monday, on those rare occasions when I have a bit of me-time at the weekend, I like to sit down, relax and unwind by writing an eleven-hundred-word history of retinal screening in Brighton. Unfortunately, having done so last Saturday, and re-read it on Sunday, I decided it was probably a bit too long and contained too many jokes. So despite being reluctant to tone down the swashbuckling nature of the story, I spent the week canvassing opinions from a hand-picked expert judging panel comprising a programme manager, senior administrator, consultant diabetologist, retinal screener, failsafe officer and two pre-diabetic pensioners. They were kind enough to give me some frank and honest advice, so having taken on board all their comments, I rewrote the article yesterday.

It's now 1250 words. And has a few more jokes. I'm not quite sure what happened there.

But on the subject of my overwhelming professionalism, Amelie was playing with her dolls house yesterday, and was busy acting out a story with the occupants, when she was heard to say, "Time for another hideous day at work..."

Lisa claimed it was her father's influence rubbing off on her, but as I pointed out to my wife, I'm a happy-go-lucky, positive person with a lust for life and complete job satisfaction. And I always make sure Amelie's out of earshot before I say things like that. I don't think she believed me. But fortunately I have access to the internet, and the internet has access to everything, so having entered the phrase into Google, I discovered it's a line from SpongeBob SquarePants. That show has a lot to answer for.

Anyhoo, in addition to acting out scenes of professional despair, Amelie spent most of yesterday with her brother. As the dawn broke over Brighton, this was the scene in our bedroom...


That's my side of the bed they're on. Which explains why I was up so early. It does, however, demonstrate the advantages of modern technology. If they were looking at a book instead of the iPad, it would have been too dark to take a photo.

They'd soon moved on from the bed to the bath...


... and by mid-afternoon we were ready to go out. I took Amelie and Toby for a walk in the early spring sunshine - a walk that inevitably led to a playground. But on the way, we passed a house I've never noticed before. And here it is...


I pointed it out to Amelie, and said "Look at those funny shaped windows". She stopped, inspected them for a moment, and then, to my complete surprise, said "Yes, Daddy, they're hexagons".

Bearing in mind that Lisa's knowledge of geometry extends about as far as playing the triangle in primary school, and I'm generally too busy doing my hideous job to teach her any maths, Amelie's sudden display of erudition stunned me into silence. For about two seconds. After which I asked her how she knew that.

She replied, "I learnt it from an iPad game".

I always knew an Apple a day would be good for her. I'll let her carry on showing it to Toby.