England might have broken our hearts at the World Cup last night (I knew I'd regret staying up), but the good news is that Amelie's finally got excited about the football. Not the actual game, obviously, but about the fact that they're advertising McDonalds on the hoardings at the side of the pitch. The match highlights were on TV this morning, and she had to call me in from the next room just to share her excitement about spotting the golden arches. Frankly she was lovin' it.

But whilst Amelie's making a happy meal of her corporate brand awareness, the important thing is that it's Father's Day. And I've had this card...

It came complete with a heartfelt message from the children, promising to visit me on the psychiatric ward when they drive me to a breakdown. They also gave me this CD...

I think that looks a lot like me and Lisa. Except the bloke's got hair, there are no toys on the floor, and neither of them are weeping. Oh, and we rarely get the chance to sit down.

As for my health, I now have a sore throat, which I'm assuming is coincidental, and is neither labyrinthitis-related nor induced by shouting late-night obscenities at the TV. But whilst I'm not what you'd call back to normal (whatever that is), I'm sufficiently improved to consider going back to work tomorrow. I've got Ivory Coast in the office sweepstake, so after their crushing 2-1 victory against the mighty Japan, and with only six more matches to go, it's important I'm there to lay claim to those winnings.