Monday 5th March 2007
Hurrah!  We took MIllie swimming yesterday morning (at that strange Sunday twilight hour when the streets are empty of anyone under 30).
When last we ventured into Sydenham Leisure Centre, or whatever it's called, there were tears and tantrums galore - we stayed only about 10 minutes and then gave up on the whole business.  However, following a new 3-step program we seem to have conquered Millie's fear of swimming pools.

Things started badly - the receptionist at the desk told us that for some reason the water was a bit cooler than usual - and didn't get any better: Millie didn't like the changing rooms, didn't like being undressed and didn't like her new swimming costume.  To be fair, it has buoyancy aids sewn in all the way around it which make her look like a baby suicide bomber.  If she tried to fly to the USA wearing it they'd probably shoot her on the spot.

When we walked into the pool area that bottom lip started to quiver, and by the time we went to sit down on the steps at the pool's edge she was just getting ready for an extended wailing session (which enabled us to spot another tooth coming through on the top - so that's five teeth in total now).
My idea was to let her used to the pool a bit more this time, instead of going, literally, in at the deep end, so I sat down on the steps with her on my lap, toes just dangling in the water, reassuring her and holding on tightly.  And when, after a few minutes of that, she was calm (not happy, just calm), we moved down a step so her feet were in the water.
Again, she wasn't at all happy with this, but we sat there for a few minutes until her attention was caught by all the other children having an absolute whale of a time in the pool, playing with balls and floats and inflatable things.  When she saw what a fine old time they were having then the old gizzit hand went out - 'give us it!' - and she briefly forgot about the deadly threat of the sinister lapping waters...until we moved down another step, that is, and she was properly sat in the water on my lap.
Still, even the panic over that didn't last too long, and a few minutes later we were like any normal family, splashing, and kicking and laughing in the pool.  We stayed there for about half an hour in the end, and if Millie was never entirely at home in the water she was no longer desperate to get out of it.

Good news about those CDs I bought last week, too!  Fuzzy-Felt Folk in particular is bloomin' superb!  Barking mad, but superb, and Songs for the Young at Heart also has some sublime moments on it, but is not quite as disarmingly bonkers.  
Note - you don't have to have children to enjoy either of them.

I realised (again) how long it's been since Millie was born yesterday, when my 18-month contract finished on the 'phone I bought not long after she was born.  It was my first "proper" phone - as in a cool one that did all kinds of things other than be a telephone - and I've right loved it.  But now I'm getting one of these...and I'm very excited.  It may not look as 'cool' as my old w800, but in terms of what it can do it's way cooler.  
Dude.

And I'm laughing out loud at the moment reading darts player Bobby George's biography - Bobby Dazzler: My Story. :-)

++LATE UPDATE++
I just had to add this, since it made me snort tea all over my work PC when I read it.
Charlie Brooker's IgnopediA in today's Guardian defines 'bling' as - 'any unnecessary accumulation of metal or jewellery which impresses the simple-minded.'
Snort!
Oh, I've done it again... Where are those tissues?

Thursday 1st March 2007
As part of Millie's continuing musical education (I'll be damned if she's going to grow up thinking bloomin' Jamiroquai or The accursed Automatic are the pinnacle of audio compositional excellence!) I've got a couple of new CDs today to broaden our musical horizons.
Yes, Fuzzy-Felt Folk and Songs for the Young at Heart look very interesting indeed.  And Songs for the Young at Heart even comes in a child's story-book, instead of a CD case!

I'll let you know how both Millie and myself get on with them...


Wednesday 28th February 2007
I don't know, you spend all that time, effort and intellectual steampower in order to get the RSS feed up and running...and then stop posting for a week!

I promised some more Millie news, and was going to do one of my semi-regular 'Isn't being a dad great?' pieces, but we're a bit pushed for time here at the moment, so we'll just have to settle for a bog-standard, 'Aren't kids daft?' style entry.

It's the communication skills that are really really coming on still.
Pushing Millie home from nursery at dusk a couple of days ago she spotted the moon high in the sky and kept pointing at it.  'That's the moon,' I told her.  'Moon.  People have landed on there - and in your dad's lifetime, too, although not in mummy's.  Moon.  Moon.'
But as we carried on home from nursery I said to Millie, 'Millie, where's the moon?'
And she looked straight up into the sky and pointed at the moon.
So, thinking it might have been a coincidence, I waited until we'd turned a corner (so the moon was now in a different place) and asked again, 'Millie, where's the moon?'
And the pointy finger swung inevitably up to where the moon had been, but wasn't any more.  Then she twisted about in her buggy and found it on her other side, pointing at it and saying 'Muh.'
Also, at bathtime, she now recognises 'Bath' or 'Bathy', and immediately heads off for the bathroom - which is unfortunate, because we have to go to her bedroom first to get her clothes off; but once we've done that she'll storm off up the hallway to the bathroom - and I swear, there's nothing like the sight of your little naked baby with a fat tummy and a huge grin striding purposefully towards the bathroom to make you proud.

Having known her from when she was a helpless ball of flesh, nappy and blankets in an incubator, to see this actual intelligence emerge is mind-blowing, just as much as seeing her crawl or walk for the first time - you almost can't believe it's happening.  Trying to imagine her as a full-fledged adult like you or me, walking, talking, learning, arguing, etc...  Well, it's beyond my current powers of imagination

We really do need a proper 'I love being a dad' entry here on The Truth, because I *@#$ing love being a dad.
Childless friends say, 'How's Millie...?' and you want to launch into a great uninterrupted hour long monologue about how brilliant it is and what she's been doing and how funny it was last week when...oh, and that time she...and how her daily reports from nursery bring you close to tears when they say 'Today I enjoyed singing in the group, playing with the sand and sticking glitter to a picture'.

And all you ever actually say, in a frankly miraculous feat of self-control, because you don't want to bore them, is 'Yeah, she's fine.'


Monday19th February 2007
Or, at least a demi-god, since I hope that at least some of you reading this will have noticed the new little  button in the "What's to do?" list, above left.

To 99% of the people who read this page means absolutely nothing, but it's yet another demonstration of my ever-growing power over the internet, because it means this site is now RSS-enabled.
Oh, yeah, baby - break out the champagne!

What is the hell is this RSS rubbish?

Actually, you probably won't be much wiser after reading that, but I find RSS can be pretty helpful in some situations, such as -

• gathering a list of relevant job vacancies into one easily readable list
• giving a summary of new items on your favourite sites (i.e. this one)
• compiling a list of items you've been trying to find on eBay

I promise there'll be some interesting news about small children and stuff soon.
Wednesday 21st February 2007
I am officially an eBay god, since my eBay feedback reached 500 today.
Surely, conclusive proof that I have my finger firmly on the pulse of the world wide net.

And, purely because hearing this song still sets the hairs on my arms on standing on end, here's a bit of video.  
But not just any video, oh, no.
This is the video for the single, undisputed, greatest, most incredible song of the last five years - it's Johnny Boy with You Are The Generation Who Bought More Shoes (And You Get What You Deserve).
If you don't like this, then you're not human...



Tuesday 20th February 2007
Conclusive proof that Millie understands English, even if she can't really speak it yet.

She knows where the biscuit tin is in our house, and the first thing she usually does when we get in the door is point at the cupboard where the tin is, look at you expectantly and say "Buh".  
Ah, yes, she's her father's child; you can't imagine how pleased I am that she should follow in my footsteps so early on!
Anyway, she's not allowed biscuits before her dinner, but you have to give her points for trying.

Now, I chatter away to her all the time we're together, pretending we're having a proper conversation about stuff, and after she'd eaten her dinner last night I said to her, "Excellent work, first-born of mine, you have earned the right to a biscuit."
Or something like that. But at the word "biscuit" she sat up straight, her head swung round, eyes wide open, and she pointed out to the kitchen.
"Buh!" she said excitedly.  "Buh!"
I was quite surprised by this so I said again, "Do you want a biscuit, poppet?" And I swear, she gave me the kind of relieved look you give when someone very very stupid has finally grasped what you've been saying for the past ten minutes.  And every time I said the word "Biscuit" she did the same thing until we finally went and got a biscuit.
Not just any biscuit either - given the choice of the tin the foolish girl turned her nose up at the All Butter biscuits in favour of a Rich Tea!  Stupid child!

We've actually been very slightly concerned that Millie's not saying any proper words yet - only, as I say, slightly concerned, but the Lovely Melanie was going to mention it at Millie's hospital check-up later on today.  Now we know that MIllie's speech centres in her brain are working - that she can understand language perfectly well - she's just not using it properly herself yet.

++UPDATE++
The Lovely Melanie has just rung to tell me that Millie's check-up went fine, as usual. Millie's a completely normal little girl, for her age.
We're going to give her a first taste of pancakes tonight, to celebrate.  I suspect she either won't be interested in them or won't like them, but you never know...

Monday19th February 2007
Today, we are not talking about babies.
Babies are great and everything, and Millie was a powerhouse of energy yesterday, stamping about the garden, racing up and down the house, absolutely unstoppable...
But we're not talking about babies today, because of the stupid BBC news coverage of the expansion of the congestion charge here in London, which was just so biased against it.

London has a traffic problem like every city in this country, not to mention many large towns, and the only way to do something about it (short of inventing a flying car) is to reduce, or at least stabilise, the amount of traffic on the roads.  You need fewer people driving cars on the roads.  Fewer cars equals less traffic equals less traffic jams.  It's not rocket science.

And if you ask anyone driving a car around London whether or not they want to pay a congestion charge then of course they're going to say "No!"  I'd say no!  Who in their right mind wants to pay for something that's currently free??

But that's a short-sighted way of looking at things, because it isn't possible to carry on the way we're going.  There are too many people driving too many cars in too small a space, and either we have to voluntarily stop driving cars around cities or...well, eventually we'll be forced to stop because the roads will be too crowded.

The congestion charge is aimed at stopping this situation arising, at keeping the roads usable and open to all, so that we can still travel around our cities without having to use a flying car.  If you're against the congestion charge because it's "unfair" or because it's "too restricting" then you're a selfish bastard - that's my opinion.
You're a selfish bastard because you don't care what happens in the future, when we get complete gridlock in our cities and towns, just so long as nobody tries to stop you driving your car wherever you damn well please now.
That's what Millie's like at the moment: she wants to have everything that she wants NOW, and if she can't get it then she has a tantrum.  She has no sense of the future, no sense of how a bit of self-control might benefit her in the long run.  All she can see is that she's not being allowed to have a biscuit NOW, whilst the Lovely Melanie can see that having a biscuit now will ruin her appetite for dinner in 20 minutes.

And obviously a congestion charge won't work outside of a city, and obviously if it's to work then it's absolutely and utterly essential that you have decent, affordable, reliable public transport.  It's the carrot and the stick - you've got the.stick of the charge and the carrot of a good public transport system.

So why did the BBC this morning feel it was necessary to ask various people IN CARS what they thought about the newly expanded congestion charge?  It's like going to a Catholic church and asking people what they think about abortion!

They should have interviewed me, and I could have told them how much easier my jorney to work has been since the congestion charge came in, how many books I've managed to read whilst on the tube, how many ideas I've come up whilst sitting on the top deck of a bus, how much money I've saved by not having to buy a car - and not to mention how much less carbon I'm personally responsible for emitting. :-)

Wednesday14th February 2007
So we were in Swindon over the weekend, following a schedule like a rock band on tour - it was a 48-hour scramble, every hour of every day planned in advance to give Millie maximum exposure to her adoring public.
If things got a bit gruelling at times that was the only way we could get to see as many people as possible, and even then we couldn't fit everybody in.  So to those we did see - lovely to have seen you; to those we didn't see - sorry we missed you, and you're on the top of the visiting list for next time.

Christ, I remember when a visit to Swindon was an excuse to sit back, relax and go to the pub a lot...

Millie was a screaming bundle of  misery most of the way on the train, miraculously cheering up only once we arrived, leaving her frazzled parents to dump her in the grandparents' arms with mutterings of "Stupid fat baby..."

Luckily she pulled it out of the bag for the rest of the weekend, indefatigably dazzling everyone with smiles, her walking/climbing ability, and by chattering away to herself and anyone within earshot ('Badger badger badger' and 'Hiya' are her two latest phrases).
Indefatigably dazzling everyone except Billy the cat, that is, who was hounded mercilessly whenever he dared step inside the house.  There's also a path worn into my parents stair carpet from where Millie kept going up and down, up and down, up and down (you may recall, we have no stairs in our flat here in London), often carrying extremely impractical objects - these seem to help her balance when she's walking: if she's carrying, say, a large Glastonbury cheese, she's far less likely to fall over.

She also got to try on her bridesmaid's dress for my brother's wedding in May (there's a picture on Flickr
naturally), and had her feet measured for her first proper pair of shoes.  
In case you're wondering, she's a size 3E.

And one particular moment of excitement - at bathtime on Saturday we'd just put her into the water when all the light went out!
Power cut!
My mum panicked a bit, as it really was completely pitch-black and we couldn't see what Millie was doing - whether she might be standing, sitting, drinking the shampoo, or had immediately plunged face down into the water when the lights failed - as my mum obviously suspected was the case.
But she was snatched from the dark, unfriendly waters while I went to get my 'phone, so as to use the light on that as a beacon to stop Millie being shipwrecked on the rocks that may have spontaneously arisen in the bathtub when the lights went out.

It was briefly chaos in the bathroom, as there were six people in there (not including Millie), but once candles were lit and milk had been warmed on the hob then things settled down a bit and Millie nuffled* off to sleep.
Candles - must remember that the next time she gets all riled up before bedtime...


* "nuffle" - word used as both a verb and a noun to describe (i) a blanket Millie likes to "snuffle" in, and (ii) the act of snuffling itself, so it is theoretically possible to 'nuffle your nuffle'.  Sometimes shorted to just "nuff" - as in the "popular" saying, 'You can never have enough nuff'.
Wednesday 7th February 2007
Things are quiet here.
Millie continues to do well in the "Lower Toddlers".  She had a nasty stomach bug last week, which had the Lovely Melanie fretting for a couple of days, lest we be landed with a sick baby for a month, like last time...
But "fortunately" Millie threw up for a few days, regularly filled her nappies with what looked remarkably like chicken soup, and then got better, as children generally do.
There was one memorable day when the washing machine was permanently spinning, filled with sick-soaked things; Millie had to wear a Christmas babygrow to bed, as she'd been sick on all her others, and we had to wash all the sofa covers, all our clothes, three towels, the rug and three lots of bedding.

Apart from that it's been very quiet.  My back is still healing well - there was a small hiccup in the recovery process when I went to How Does It Feel To Be Loved on Friday night.  Kevin Rowland (of Dexy's Midnight Runners fame) was DJing, and it's a tiny little venue, so I didn't want to miss that, did I?
Anyway, he played some absolutely beautiful tunes, and I absolutely danced my little heart out - as best I was able.  I must have some special muscles that I only use for dancing (people who've seen me dance will probably agree - nobody else in the world uses the same muscles as I do for dancing) since I was only a little bit sore on Saturday.

Friday, we're off to Swindon in the morning via the train , to see the family and some friends...and that's all there is to say at the moment. Wednesday 31st January 2007
Millie's nursery have moved her from "Babies" downstairs to "Lower Toddlers" upstairs.  She was supposed to spend a couple of sessions over the next week or so getting acclimatised to the atmosphere upstairs, but she settled in so well straightaway that the staff decided she could stay there.

It should be more fun for Millie, since the "Babies" department isn't where the action is, they're, frankly, a lazy, good-for-nothing bunch - sitting around all day, occasionally crawling, being fed and changed, read stories and sung songs.  There's no discipline there.  It's a very shoddy state of affairs.

In the "Lower Toddlers" department, on the other hand, there's an abundance of energy: lots of dynamic young minds, all competing to push the envelope that bit further, all thinking outside the box (but prepared to think inside the box, if the box is a big, comfortable, interesting box full of toys).  They're walking, talking, enterprising go-getters, the lot of 'em!

However, Millie's still got to prove herself: there's no "old school bib" network.

In "Lower Toddlers", she's a particularly small fish in a big, bubbling pond, and the real executive high-fliers (the bigger children) treat her just like a doll at the moment.  In the nicest possible sense "like a doll" - they want to hug her and take care of her.  
But Millie's a loose cannon!
She's a maverick!
She doesn't play by the rules!
She's certainly not one for being mollycoddled - no, sir!
So, while she's prepared to indulge the mollycoddlers to begin with, she soon gets tired of it and wants to implement her own strategies and initiatives and what-have-you (she's currently working on plans to redistribute all the glitter in the department, based upon a critical path analysis of its cost-effectiveness compared to plasticine).
It's a dog-eat-dog world in the nursery, and Millie's got to make sure her bite matches her bark, or she'll be downsized back to "Babies" before you can say, "Implementation of agenda-specific policy assessments!"

As for me, I went to see the doctor yesterday.  He's given me enough industrial strength ibuprofen to kill a horse and the rest of the week off work.

When I rang for the appointment the receptionist said, "We've got an appointment slot free in 15 minutes.  Can you get here for then?"

We live about five minutes walk away from our GP, and  I just barely made it.  With that in mind I'd like to apologise unreservedly to any old people who I've ever tutted at for walking too slowly.  Brothers and sisters of pensionable age, I feel your pain!

Monday 29th January 2007
Ouch.
Tried to pick Millie up yesterday morning and something at the bottom of my back went pop!
So for the last couple of days I've been creeping about the house like the ghost of some shuffling pensioner who died here.  Actually, even that's not strictly true - yesterday I spent most of the day lying very still in bed, getting up only to get a cup of tea and the biscuit tin, and to have a soothing hot bath (which was very soothing, thank goodness).

The worst thing about the whole episode?  The Lovely Melanie was very tired that morning so I'd gracefully offered to look after Millie, saying to Mel, "You stay in bed and have a lie-in, love, I'll sort the Millays out."
Which I did - for about 11 minutes - until forced to squeal from the other end of the house for her to come and grab MIllie while I lay on the floor trying not to writhe about too much.
And that, unfortunately, was the end of the Lovely Melanie's Sunday lie-in.

It was a shame because we'd had a lovely weekend up until that point.
My brother and his fiance were supposed to be coming up from Swindon for the day to meet us at Tate Britain, but obviously that didn't happen.

We'd had some old friends to stay on Friday night, with their little boy who's 10 months younger than Millie (so, adjusting for Millie's early arrival, that makes him only seven months younger, really).
It was quite strange to see our two children next to each other, because Young Oscar's a lovely little chap - he's about the same size as Millie, same height, although a bit chunkier.
And that, somewhat bizarrely, is where the resemblance ended, because Oscar still can't quite crawl yet, he certainly can't stand or walk, and although he's got a couple of words in his vocabulary he doesn't communicate in the way that Millie does.  That extra seven or ten months makes a massive difference development-wise.

And yet...they looked so similar!

We really got a sense of how small Millie still is for her age.
I kept expecting Oscar to get up, point at the door and totter off towards the hallway.   Conversely, Sarah (Oscar's mum) kept saying, 'Oh, my god, look at her standing up/walking/carrying a huge teddy bear.'

After the kids went to bed we stayed up (obviously, it was only 7pm!) and chatted about children and parenting and stuff.
And mortgages, of course; all of us being card-carrying middle-class, mid-thirties, homeowners.

Tjhe Lovely Melanie and I don't get to talk about parenting and children all that often, certainly not with people in the same position as ourselves.  We're something of an anomaly in our social circle, having had a baby, and of our friends, a minority refuse point-blank to hear a word said about children in their presence, most are more or less interested to hear how Millie's getting along, and some actually like to come over and make a fuss of her - all of which are fine with me (I don't want to become a parental obsessive with no other conversation in my repertoire).
But it's always nice to talk to people in the same boat as yourself: to swap funny stories, tips and experience.  Which is what we did. :-)

And our conclusions?  All kids are different, and all of them are great, almost all of the time.

Oh, and by the way, MIllie's exactly 18 months old tomorrow.  Hurrah!


Thursday 25th January 2007
I'm just beginning to get a sense of some of the wonders on the photo site, Flickr.
It isn't all wonky shots of babies, pictures of people you've never heard of on their holidays, or blurred panoramas of families enjoying Chriistmas together.

For instance, if you have time, take a look at this guy's amazing close-up photos of insects - they're incredible.
And the new "High Dynamic Range" photography, which so far as I can tell means mixing dark, medium and very bright versions of the same image together to give one single VERY vivid image, is... well, it's the photographic equivalent of the opera singer whose voice can shatter glass.  Take a look here.


Wednesday 24th January 2007
Forest Hill, 6.45am...


..And at 7.10am...

Yes, I know.
No, I'm at least as surprised as you are.
No, we don't usually get much snow in London.
Yes, Millie was amazed by it (the Lovely Melanie tells me).
No, I don't think it will last very long, sadly.

Monday 22nd January 2007
Another entirely satisfactory birthday extravaganza.  Thanks to everyone who made it along - especially the Swindon contingent (which consisted entirely of ladies - nice to know I've still got it, even at 35!)
And I wasn't even hungover on Sunday, just a little tired;  which is quite a result, given that I was drinking rum and ouzo when everyone came back to ours after the comedy club...

Friday19th January 2007
This completely slipped under the radar last week, but Millie and Mel were in (oh! The irony!) the Daily Mail over Christmas.
The premature baby charity, BLISS, was competing for some charity money the Mail gives to the most deserving charity, as voted for by its readers (that'll be the Refugee Council and Asylum Aid out, then).
As part of their "Why we deserve the money" piece BLISS had a quote from the Lovely Melanie about Millie, and also mentioned me (although not by name - possibly fearing that my dislike for the Mail, plainly evident on this site, might work against them).
That was in the December 27th edition.  I wouldn't bother checking the microfiche at your local library to find the piece, it's very small; although, I can probably email you a scan of it if you really really want.

But the girls have just been contacted by BLISS about a full-blown interview and photo-shoot, this time for the more ideologically acceptable Prima Baby magazine, possibly next week.
Forget Celebrity Big Brother - this is where the real stars are!

Millie's going to stay with her grandparents in Hatfield for most of this weekend - and without us, too.  
Despite any actual birthday being long past I'm having my annual "Birthday Extravaganza" this weekend, which consists largely of badgering everyone I know to buy me a pint at a date, time and place of my choosing.

So Millie's being taken to Hatfield, out of harm's way, until the dust settles sometime on Sunday afternoon.
It's actually a very small "extravaganza" this year, probably only about 15 people attending ("extravaganza" attendance figures peaked a few years back at somewhere between 35-40).  And this year's extravaganza is a more responsible affair, consisting of some standup comedy at a local venue. 
In fact, it's set to be a really nice weekend, as tonight I'm also out - going to see a play about the sadly-missed Bill Hicks down in Croydon.  Let's hope it does him justice...

Tuesday 16th January 2007
I'm beginning to think that, as a family, Millie, the Lovely Melanie and myself only have one immune system to share between us.
Millie's got it at the moment.
Monday 15th January 2007 (MY BIRTHDAY!)
That was the cultural weekend that was!
It feels like we really got some quality parenting time in there.  But first, I have to ask -  did you see the darts' final last night??!
Aye caramba, it was fantastic!  Anyone who's ever met me will attest to the fact that I'm the world's smallest sports fan, but I do like to catch the a bit of the darts.  It started off with a slightly ironic edge to it, but I've become a genuine fan.  The Lovely Melanie had just cooked us a bee-yoo-tiful meal last night for my birthday, and it was as though the gods were conspiring to make it  a perfect evening, since we sat down to eat just as it looked like it was absolutely all over for Phil Nixon - even the commentators sounded like they were packing up and getting ready to go home.
I won't bore you with any more details, suffice it to say it was an incredible comeback by Phil Nixon, and the best game of darts I've seen for a long long time.

But I'm jumping the gun a bit.  Saturday found the family Carter in Vauxhall, visiting Vauxhall City Farm.
Perhaps the most unlikely location for a "farm" in the UK (except for, maybe, Sellafield) we thought we'd take Millie along to see the animals there, as although she's growing up in the city I don't her want to end up like some kids here, who have no idea of the connection between their McDonald's and cows (a bad choice of example, perhaps, as you may ask if there is one!)

Vauxhall City Farm isn't very big, and doesn't have a great many animals (some spend winter in the country) - geese, chickens, pigs, horses, rabbits, a donkey and some sheep, but Family Carter had a smashing time there.  The chickens roam about the place pretty freely and aren't in the least bit frightened of fully-grown adults, let alone little Millies, so they ambled around us, only mildly curious as to whether we had any food.  As you can see in the photos Millie was fascinated by it all, and ambled around the place eyeing up the rabbits (she's seen rabbits before), being a bit underwhelmed by the sheep, unsure what to make of the pigs, not quite able to comprehend the donkey and a bit scared of the horses when they tried to lick her.

I'm not surprised she was scared of the horses - I was a bit allergic to them at the farm, after rather unwisely petting them and not washing my hands, but when we got home I rubbed one eye...and my eyeball almost popped out of its socket I had such an allergic reaction!
There were blisters on my eyeball that have only just gone away! Blisters!  On my eyeball!  
The Lovely Melanie even asked if I wanted to go to hospital, and I laughed, thinking she was being sarcastic; but she wasn't.
God knows what Millie thought - why was her dad looking at her with only one eye open for the rest of the day.
Probably nothing, actually. She probably just thought it was another of those weird things that grown-ups do, like voluntarily eating vegetables, or drinking that "beer" stuff, or taking their kids out to muddy places full of weird furry folk who can't speak...

Sunday, despite my sore eye, we met up with our friends Mike and Inge at 10 o'clock in the morning to go on the slides at the Tate Modern.  An artist has basically installed some very big slides there, and, unlike most conventional art, the whole point is to use them - slide down them from the top. There are five in all, from a very mild "kids" slide to a four-storey monster (there's a pic on Flickr).

Guess which ones I went on?

I did try to exercise some restraint by starting at the third biggest so as to work my way up to number five, but the enormous queue and the ticketing system (it's a very popular exhibition, so although it's free you need tickets) meant we missed our slot for that one and had to go straight on to number four, which, contrary to all expectation, had only a very small queue, and number five had no queue at all!
It was great fun to go on, but almost as nice to just watch: everyone coming out of the slides had a HUGE smile on their faces - nobody was "too cool for school" and all cynicism was left at the door; so that the simple act of going down a big slide cheered up everyone who tried it.  It was all jolly life-affirming and worthwhile.

As a bonus, Millie was fascinated by the Tate Modern - it's a great cavernous structure, and she kept pointing upwards to where, I guess, she thought the roof should have been; not to mention that the big open-plan spaces meant she could start walking and just carry on walking until she got hungry.  She also loved the cobbles on some of the nearby streets, quickly learning when we were pushing her in the buggy that if she went, "Uhhhhh" the bumping would turn it into "Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh..."  How we all laughed. ;-)

So that was a lovely morning: and when we came out it was still morning, which we were all a bit shocked by; it just didn't seem right to already have had such a great time and yet it wasn't even lunchtime, especially on a Sunday - that really didn't seem right, somehow.
So we walked along the South Bank for a bit, watched some dogs playing on the beach, browsed the book fair, and then crossed the Thames and went for a drink on The Strand in a very old pub called the Coal-Hole.

Now, that was a very nice weekend indeed, and, I'll wager, impossible to match outside London...

Friday 12th January 2007
A nice quiet week.  Still no new illnesses for Millie, although, she did manage to bite her tongue earlier in the week (drawing blood and floods of tears), but she's none the worse for it.  

I thought it was worth mentioning the "still no illness" thing, as that's quite an achievement after the last couple of months.

And she now has three definite teeth.  And has almost grown out of her first ever proper pair of shoes (as opposed to sandals or booties).
And she's still eating like a horse.  If you're eating something, she wants it.  If something looks like it might be edible, she wants it.  If something doesn't look like it might be edible, but she hasn't tried to eat it before, she probably wants it.  If something only looks marginally edible and she's tried it before and it wasn't fatal, she probably wants it.

Actually, one thing worth mentioning: now that MIllie's back to her old self she's doing a lot of playing.  But she seems to be taking after her parents in that most of the time she doesn't want to play with toys, what she wants is for you to read her her books.
She'll pick up a book and then come over and plonk herself down on your lap ready for a story; she still plays with toys, but more often than not she wants books - books, or to skitter off down the hallway to look in the washing machine or turn the radio on in the bedroom or to climb on the bed to look out the front window or to roll around in the big green beanbag in the living room or to climb into "Davros" (a little wheeled chair with lots of noisy buttons on it, so-called because it vaguely resembles the chair Davros in Dr Who used to sit in) which is kept under the table in Millie's bedroom.

You haven't even noticed all the shiny new reviews and articles in the "What's New?" column on the left, have you?
I spend hours slaving over a hot PC, writing reviews of books you've never heard of and articles about placesyou've never been to, and what thanks do I get...? (apart from judging the Clarke Award, and the endless free books, that is)