The good thing about Amelie having her own camera is that she can capture those precious childhood moments that Lisa and I can't be bothered to pay attention to. Amelie ran into the kitchen yesterday morning and said "Daddy! Look at these photos I've just taken of Toby!". She then showed me a series of action shots of my son wrestling a cat on the sofa...

I'm not sure which one of them needs a haircut the most.

Anyhoo, what I like about this situation is that firstly Amelie could get some freelance work for Sports Illustrated, and secondly she's reacted to a sudden and unexpected case of animal cruelty, not by intervening to ensure a safe outcome, but by grabbing her camera and snapping some pics. Which is exactly what I would have done. She's a chip off the old block.

Of course, yesterday was Halloween, a time for scary, blood-curdling experiences at the hands of violent, well-armed psychopaths. So I went to get my flu jab from Occupational Health. They'd put up signs in the department stating that 'THE FLU VACCINE WILL NOT GIVE YOU FLU', in an attempt to stop ignorant people like myself claiming that it's made them ill. But they also handed me a list of possible side-effects, which is like a blood-red rag to a hypochondriac bull.

And frankly I felt rough for the rest of the day. Apparently Fluarix can give you headache, muscular pain, shivering and fatigue, and by the time I left work, I'd ticked them all off my list of symptoms. I also had a painful arm. But fortunately the convulsions and paralysis haven't kicked in yet.

The bad news is that despite feeling like I'd been jabbed with the flu, I was welcomed home by a five-year-old witch in a 99p skeleton mask who was desperate to go out trick-or-treating. And as a caring and selfless father, I found myself saying yes.

Although naturally I refused to go with her.

Fortunately, Lisa's sister is a lot more game than we are, and agreed to let Amelie tag along with her gang of monsters for an evening of robbery and threatening behaviour. So I drove my daughter across town, banged on my sister-in-law's door, shouted "Trick or Treat!", and then abandoned her there on the doorstep. I returned two hours later to find her slightly traumatised by a bloke in a giant chicken head, and clutching a pumpkin full of sweets. That's what I call a good night out.