One of my patients today was a famous former footballer. So famous, in fact, that I actually knew who he was. Although I was helped by the other patients in the waiting room who kept bothering him for an opinion on the next manager of Man United. Whoever they are. By the time I called him in, even I'd twigged that he must be some kind of expert.

Tragically, I was born without the bloke gene, so I steered away from football and beer, and talked about his eyes instead. Which isn't quite as gay as it sounds. Although he did have very nice ones. Anyway, we got on famously (him more than me), and he shook my hand at the end. Which was a bit of a relief, as I was worried he might ask to swap shirts.

Unfortunately, back in the non-celebrity world, things are far less peachy. And more pineappley. Amelie went down with sickness and diarrhoea overnight, and by the time I got up at 6am this morning, Lisa had changed her bedding twice, and installed a bucket in every room. Amelie's currently obsessed with tinned pineapple chunks, so living here is a bit like being at a 1970s dinner party, and at first we thought that was the explanation for her throwing up. She'd downed enough fruit yesterday to make the man from Del Monte say no.

But as her symptoms progressed, it soon became apparent that she had a genuine bug. Not apparent to me, obviously - I was blissfully asleep, and unaware of the trauma - but apparent to Lisa, who went without sleep to look after her. Amelie emerged from her bedroom at 7am this morning, and I've never seen such a sad little face. Mainly on Lisa, who was hoping she'd sleep a bit later, but also on Amelie, who wanted to know why her tummy hurt so much.

I left for work at seven-thirty, but word reached me at 10am that Am had been sick again, and by lunchtime she was back in bed. Which is where Lisa wanted to be. I popped to the nearest charity shop and bought a cuddly toy to cheer up my daughter, but what my wife needed was more sleep. So that's where she is now: getting some bed rest to recover from Amelie's illness. They say it's the parents who suffer more.