Tom: I was thinking about Domburg.

Me: Yes? What were you thinking about?

Tom: I was thinking about when we saw Kraak en Smaak.

Me: Well, we actually saw them in Middelburg, in the Abdijplein. But it isn’t far from Domburg.

Tom: Yes, that’s right. [pause] Abdijplein is a funny word. It’s double Dutch! Abdijplein! Heeheehee! (pronounced perfectly: ab-dye-pline)

This morning, as Tom demolished the last spoonful of his second breakfast…

me: do you want some music on?

Tom: [muffled through egg] yeff pleef

me: try this. It starts quietly and gets louder.

Tom: [hands over ears] will it hurt when it gets loud?

me: no, just listen.

At this point, Tom runs off and fetches his guitar (a toy) and starts plucking the strings (not his normal random strumming) whilst nodding his head and looking at his feet.

There’s hope yet. I think it may be time to move him onto The Fall.

Hels and Tom both have colds. I’ve had a bit of a sore throat, but it hasn’t come to anything.

When they first went down with a little lethargy, sore throat, snuffliness and all the other usual symptoms, we immediately thought that our turn might have come for swine flu. If it had, we wouldn’t be too worried – we’d get our way through it and get it out of the way. Unpleasant and inconvenient, yes, but probably not life-changing. For the vast majority of people, it’s just a nasty bug.

So, given that, Hels called the doctor. We’d heeded the advice not to actually go to the surgery and it seems our local surgery is well-prepared. Our doctor was able to take Hels’s call (not just the receptionist team) and talked through the symptoms. She (our doctor) seemed a little fed up with the Government’s diagnosis-by-checklist approach. Hels described her symptoms, including her temperature of 37.8 Celsius. The doctor laughed and said that, given her symptoms and according to the checklist, Hels did not have flu but had a cold. If, however, her temperature had been 38 Celsius, that woud have been enough.

So we are carrying on life pretty much as normal. Hels has taken a little time off work (heavy colds tend to knock her down a bit anyway due to previous illnesses in her 20s). But we are not putting ourselves into quarantine.

What I wonder is this: given that our doctor is aware that this cold bug is going around at the moment, how many of the 100,000 new cases this week really are H1N1 flu and how many are just summer colds? Are we getting false information and is the Government making decisions based on that? What will happen if/when we actually get real flu later in the year?

As an aside, the Government gave advice last weekend (as reported by the BBC) that expectant mothers and mothers of under-5s should stay away from crowds. I presume they haven’t visited your average ante-natal clinic lately, because they are never crowded, obviously. And, what of fathers of under-5s? Presumably, if they stayed away from crowded places (like shops, offices, railway stations and workplaces) the economy would grind to a halt.

As Hels put it – the Government takes the nation to war but can’t seem to work out what to do about a virus.

Plants that Tom can recognise and name:

• daffodil
• snowdrop
• bluebell
• ivy
• privet
• holly (ouch!)
• grass (tut, I expect a more specific description than that!)
• rosemary
• oak
• yew
• birch
• maple
• sycamore
• chestnut
• blackberry (bramble)
• dandelion

I expect his repertoire to improve as the spring progresses.

We have just taken the opportunity to have a little holiday. Well, that was the plan. I had to go to Angers for an exhibition and took H and T along with me, something we have done for four out of the last five years.

After staying in Angers for a couple of nights and a (very successful) day at the exhibition, we took the car to Saint Malo, via Rennes and Dinan. We got to our hotel and wandered into the Intra Muros, had a nice meal and then, to entertain Tom, clambered up onto the city wall to head back towards the hotel. So far, so good. But it was mightily dark and I decided to carry Tom as we descended the stone steps. Hels stumbled on the last step as we went down. And then I fell down on the same step, heavily. I managed to hold on to Tom and lower him gently to the step. But I had a fair idea that I’d really hurt myself. I could tell this by the tears in my eyes and nausea, not to mention the pain.

We hobbled back to the hotel and went to bed. But, in the morning, it became quite evident that I was in agony. The evidence consisted of me yelping with pain whenever I stood up, and yelping twice as much if I put any weight on my left foot.

With guidance from the hotel receptionist, Hels took me over to the hospital. After a short wait, an x-ray revealed the tiniest chip off a bone. My reward – a French plaster cast with matching crutches and painkillers. My first damaged bone. Bugger.

We changed our homeward travel arrangements and got ourselves on the next ferry from Saint Malo to Portsmouth (we originally planned to travel to Dieppe and then back to Newhaven – but if ever you take that boat, pack a lunch as the food is utter crap). I’m hoping that my insurers will pay for the change of ferry plans and the lost night of accommodation (about four hundred quid in total).

Since then, I’ve seen umpteen medical people and been the centre of much attention. I’ve got to wear the cast for at least ten days before it is swapped for a removable boot. Which means I can’t drive, can’t put weight on it and can’t walk more than a few paces. Which will make life a little difficult, to say the least.

And, to top it all, Tom has chickenpox. Spots. Lots of them. And itchy.

Hels has got her work cut out. She’s pretty amazing.

It only took until around 7.15pm today, 2nd January, for me to say to Hels: "bloody hell, the year is flying past already!"

2009 is certainly going to be interesting, potentially dramatic and quite possibly bloody terrifying. As Gordon put it, we will all get there by the end of 2009, but it might be useful to know where "there" is.

Meanwhile, we have "reduced lighting" in our conservatory as the electricians have been (i.e. my father and brother) in preparation for the replacement of our conservatory this week. You’d think that replacing a conservatory would not be something to tackle in times of financial uncertainty, but this qualifies as a distress purchase due to the fact that water has been pouring in and it is about to collapse. It’s only costing us <cough> thousand pounds, but it does mean that we are the conservatory company’s new best friends. It will, at least, let in more light and reduce drafts – so we should be more energy efficient, at least by a small bit.

Other thrift measures in place include:

• taking a permit to saw down trees in a well-known National Forest and Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in order to get cheap fuel for our home (and to wind up passing dog-walkers/conservationists);
• thinking about laying more insulation in the loft;
• starting work on the allotment – potatoes are currently chitting on my office floor and a big box of seeds lies ready. But we need to do more digging yet and also source some poo;
• encouraging Tom to use the loo instead of nappies – he is late at making this transition, but shows no enthusiasm for it;
• installing a new, energy-efficient washing machine (another distress purchase – water flooded across the floor and the engineer scratched his chin and sucked on his teeth, just as the warranty had expired);
• enjoying days out that consist of walking with occasional added pint/coffee, or heavy use of the National Trust card;
• DartTag – £1 instead of £1.50. It’s the way ahead, and it makes a groovy BEEEEEP noise and makes the barrier go up all by itself.

Are you saving cash?

The hyperactive child is asleep. The wife is wrapping presents. Monty is in his basket. Treacle is sitting next to me.

Me? I’ve just signed my Corporation Tax return and written a fat cheque to the Revenue.

Ho ho and, indeed, ho. Merry Christmas.

Miffy has a quiet moment on the shingle at Bexhill.

Miffy: Giddyup!

Pedro: Geddoff!

We’ve just got back from a few days on the Isle of Wight, of which more later.

After one particularly windy day of exploring and wandering, we arrived back at our lodging and noticed that Pedro was missing. Pedro is/was Tom’s toy donkey and was a gift from a friend. We thought hard about where we had last seen Pedro and decided that it must have been at a National Trust garden that we visited. It being the early evening, we decided it was too late to call, so I called first thing the next day (Friday). Unfortunately the garden is closed on Fridays and Saturdays (hello? why??), but I’ve been promised that someone will get back to me tomorrow.

Tom hadn’t noticed the absence of Pedro, but last night the penny finally dropped. We had tears and wailing and “where’s Pedroooooooo???”. I felt utterly awful – I do my best to keep track of Tom’s belongings, but clearly this got missed. We appeased Tom with a story that Pedro had gone to visit his donkey friends, although he saw through that and Hels explained that we’d lost him and were doing the best we could to track him down.

Today we bought a new donkey. £2.99 in Morrisons. He’s not the same, but Tom seems happy. For now.

Thank goodness it wasn’t Miffy. Now that would have been a real disaster and simply doesn’t bear thinking about.

UPDATE: I had to call the National Trust in the end. No sign of Pedro I, but it seems that Tom is already very attached to Pedro II.

Even though Tom is not yet two-and-a-half, he’s having his first taste of school, right now. OK, so it is not proper school – it’s the Montessori nursery school – and it is not a full day – he’s having a one-hour "taster session" to see how he likes it. He’ll begin in earnest in September, going two days a week to begin with.

Naturally, his mummy was a bit teary once we left him there. He was a little unsure at first, but with Miff by his side he was soon diving in to the educational wooden toys with gusto. He’s used to coping on his own for two days a week at his childminder, so dealing with nursery school isn’t too much of a challenge for him. Hels and I are just having a cup of coffee and a piece of cake before we go back in a few minutes to collect him and get a report of how he has got on. No doubt he will have flirted with the girls, carried Miff everywhere and generally had a fun time. And the fear of it will be reduced – so when he does go for the first time, hopefully we won’t have too much of a scene.

A few things that I haven’t had/made time to remark upon here in the last week or so:

• my gorgeous wife had a birthday. The three of us went to London for the day and ambled around Covent Garden, Regent Street, Tate Britain and the South Bank. Tom was particularly impressed with the sculpture at the Tate, remarking that The Three Graces have bottoms “just like Mummy’s”, which is possibly the best compliment a girl could wish for.
• subsequently, my gorgeous wife went on holiday with her mum to Morocco, leaving son and husband to fend for themselves. Thanks to sitting in train stations with poorly-inked cardboard signs, we survived this ordeal and only went to the pub once.
• Hels and I completed the 20km JustWalk on Saturday in blistering (literally) heat. We were accompanied by our brother-in-law Kevin all the way round the circuit and were able to enjoy some lovely views and some splendid wild flowers. But it was bloomin’ hot and we had to work hard to keep hydrated and to avoid heat stroke. The sections of the walk in the open were particularly hard, especially the mile or so down the south-facing slope into Charlton which was on a chalk and flint track in a bit of a dip – no breeze, bright intense sun, no shade and lots of reflected light and heat from the surface. Thanks to some remarkably generous people, we have now passed our original sponsorship target of £500, for the Parkinson’s Disease Society but we still want to raise more money. What do you mean, you haven’t sponsored us yet? Go here and give now, please and thank you.
• Oh, and it’s my birthday today. I’m already enjoying my first present.

On arriving in a hotel near Geneva, one opens one’s washbag to discover that the bottle of conditioner has partly leaked. This has happened in the past when travelling and then it was a disaster of hair-pulling proportions.

However, having spent two years dealing with Tom’s “poonami” nappies, I now merely shrug and rinse it out over the bathroom sink. At least this smells quite nice.

This is a very well-travelled rabbit. So far, she has been to Wales, Ireland, France, Belgium, The Netherlands, Germany and Italy.

Here she is at the Palace of Versailles, admiring the topiary.

I know a small boy who is two years old today. He’s currently sitting and watching the Miffy DVDs that Mummy and Daddy bought him for today.

Unfortunately, someone gave him a cold as a present. Looks like Mummy and Daddy might have to buy a packet of tissues for him too.

Yes, once again we come around to the annual grayblog end-of-the-year introspection. I know you’ve been looking forward to this for at least, oooo, twelve months?

Firstly, let’s look back and get the resolutions thing out of the way. At the end of 2006 (the archives are over there, on the right), I said I’d carry on improving the things that I had starting improving in 2006. But who has time for that? The garden isn’t finished, I haven’t done enough exercise and the writings here have become ever more sparse as the year has gone on.

So, do resolutions have any value if they are so easily broken/ignored? Comments welcome on that subject. And, given my obvious feelings on the value of resolutions, you can set as much store as you feel is appropriate in the following:

• to write here more frequently (not too hard)
• to take more exercise (we now have bikes which spend far too much time locked away)
• to keep my office in a more tidy condition (also not hard)

What else can be said about 2007? Well, at a professional level, things have generally improved through the year. I don’t think it’s a huge secret that I wasn’t terribly optimistic about the prospects for my business late in 2006 and was feeling pretty demoralized. Things have improved markedly since then and whilst it is still tough going, the light is clearly visible at the end of the tunnel and, if all goes to plan in 2008, I might be able to talk about my business and the “P-word”* in the same sentence without laughter. To a large degree, I’ve been carried along by the faith shown in me and my business by others around me – my backers and my clients. Even my bank has been supportive (although I’ve yet to ask them to dip their corporate hand into their corporate pockets for me, and hopefully won’t need to). The one person who keeps me from believing too much of what they say has been Hels, who frequently questions me and challenges me to test what I’m doing and show that things truly are going the right way. That is a good thing and has encouraged me to look hard at the business and the direction that it is going in. And I’m happy with it right now.

2007 has also seen us seriously (VERY seriously) looking at emigration to the Netherlands (or possibly just inside the Belgian border). Ultimately this plan has been shelved – we have decided to stay close to friends and family. We also can’t really afford it at this stage – if my business was making more money and we hadn’t been so crippled by not selling Hels’s flat for so long, then maybe it would have been different. Note that I say that the plan is shelved, not abandoned. It’s something that we will keep at the back of our minds and may return to in the future. And our love for Maastricht is undimmed, as you might have guessed from the number of Dutch-related del.icio.us links that I post.

The year has seen its usual bunch of travelling, this time including trips to the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, France, Italy and Poland. I didn’t get to a few destinations that I had in mind for lack of time and resources, but the opportunity is not lost, merely deferred. I do promise to stick some photos on here somewhen of some of the places that I/we have been to this year – feel free to nag me to keep to that promise. Highlights of this year’s travel for me included:

• San Pellegrino in Alpe, Italy – breath-takingly beautiful and wonderfully peaceful (although I suspect it might be busier in high season)
• Hamburg, Germany – drinking cocktails whilst standing in the rain on the morning of my birthday
• Warnemünde, Germany – bobbing about in a launch on the Warnow river with Hels and Tom
• Kanne, Belgium – getting the “I could live here – this just might work” feeling
• A12, Netherlands – driving from Gouda towards Zoetermeer and marvelling at the sodium-lamp orange mist with enormous wind turbines looming darkly out of the gloaming and wishing my camera was handy
• Tiercé, France – having possibly the best cheese board I’ve ever had or am ever likely to have in “Sarkozy’s restaurant”
• Przydworzyce, Poland – driving through the woods and seeing locals who had gathered mushrooms offering them for sale at the roadside, often only a single punnet-full

Travel plans for 2008 are subject to change, but look likely to include Germany, France, Belgium, the Netherlands (no surprise there), Switzerland (2008′s first for me – 2007′s was Poland) and Italy. Maybe Spain. And maybe Ireland and Poland. Too many places to go to, for both business and pleasure, and too little time and money to do them all.

Of course, the true highlight of 2007 has been watching Tom growing up. He is fantastic, a life-changing element of existence. He continually amazes and surprises us. It’s impossible to feel down when he’s around. I’m looking forward to more in 2008. And more of married life with Hels, but I’m going to stop on the emotional family gushing now before your keyboard gets covered in vomit.

What do I think 2008 will bring? Goodness knows. If there is one thing that I’ve learnt, it is that you can never tell what the future will bring. I think politics and the economy will both be fascinating in 2008 (and might finally push crappy nonsense “entertainment” out of the headlines a little) although the ride might be a bit bumpy. My business will increase in strength and stature. Family life should continue to be splendid, particularly as we have settled on our home here for the time-being and should have fewer disturbances to routine (famous last words). And I might knock-up a decent duck à l’orange or two.

Thanks to the regular readers who keep coming back here – I know there must be at least half a dozen of you still braving the digital elements to come here. Happy, peaceful and prosperous New Year to you all.

CFB (549 KB)

During our recent holiday in Tuscany, having spied San Pellegrino in Alpe on the map as a potentially interesting place to visit and with a sleeping child in the back of the hire car, we decided to amble our way up the steep and winding mountain roads to take a look. It’s a stunning place – a hamlet consisting of a couple of bars and restaurants for the tourists, a museum of rural life and a very old church and monastery. But, above all, it has some of the most stunning views in the high Apennines. We stopped, walked around, had lunch and ice cream, and relaxed. For me, it was one of the highlights of the holiday.

When we got back to the car, I noticed that Miffy was missing. I’m not sure if I have mentioned before that Tom has a toy Miffy to whom he is almost surgically attached. We did try to discourage this at first, but eventually it got to the stage that it was easier to let him hold Miff than to put up with the plaintive "Miffy! Miffy! Miiiiffeeeee!" when he couldn’t find her. (And you should see what it’s like when Miff has a "bath" – Tom’s face is pressed against the door as she spins at 1400rpm). This had potential disaster qualities, for whilst we now have a spare Miff (Miffy Two), we know that she’s a poor substitute for the slightly grey and battered real thing.

I thought back quickly to recall where I’d last seen Miff during our three hour sojourn in this other-worldly village. I remembered seeing her by a seat we had sat on that is just out of view in the photo above. As the tears started to roll down Tom’s cheeks, I set off at a jog to find her. Now, I’m not the fittest person in the world, but I’m not terrifically unfit either. I jogged down to the seat and found two wizened and ancient local men pondering this off-white rabbit sitting on the floor. I picked her up, turned and started back up the hill, just as my lungs were about to burst – jogging at 1525 metres (5000 feet) is not for the faint-hearted.

• 2.15pm – Monty walks into the house, limping
• 2.16pm – I get scratched as I try to see what the problem is
• 2.20pm – arrange 2.50pm appointment with the vet
• 2.23pm – phone Hels
• 2.25pm – dig cat carrier out of the shed
• 2.30pm – phone childminder to arrange collecting Tom early
• 2.32pm – leave home
• 2.40pm – collect Tom
• 2.50pm – arrive at vet
• 3.00pm – go into examination room, juggling cat, son and Miffy toy
• 3.02pm – vet extracts thorn from Monty’s paw, advising that if it had been left there would have been an abcess and general nastiness, and administers antibiotic
• 3.05pm – nurse agrees that Miffy is suffering from Dirty Ear Disease and needs a bath
• 3.06pm – nurse relieves yours truly of £32.41
• 3.15pm – arrive home. Release disgruntled cat. Monty licks his wounds on his paw. I lick the wound on my wallet.

• wheel
• car
• cat (often whispered)
• Treacle (trecul – very short syllables)
• knock knock
• tea (he gets confused on this and Monty is sometimes labelled Tea)
• plane
• train
• flower
• dog
• Daddy (usually Da’)
• Mama (usually Mamamamama)
• ball (although often as gall)
• balloon
• wow (this one a lot)
• no
• tractor
• tree (or treeee)
• duck
• horse
• down
• gone
• hooray (accompanied by a Mexican wave)
• aahhhh (when hugging)
• door
• antidisestablishmentarianism*

*may be a fib

Just to keep Matt The Bakiwop happy, here is a genuine update:

• I’m working like a mad thing at the moment. I haven’t even had time to update my work weblog, which is bad. Work is generally busy in a good way, though, so things are quite good. Just don’t mention the Germans.
• We’ve been travelling a bit lately and I owe readers some photos from recent trips. So far this year we have been to Angers/Nantes, Utrecht/Maastricht/Aachen/Namur, Hamburg/Rostock and I made a solo trip to Vlaardingen/Aalsmeer. There have also been a few UK-based days out and there are some photos from those too. When time permits, I’ll upload some.
• On the domestic front, I’ve been working on developing the front garden (although progress has been in fits and starts and has stalled again lately – I need to get the footings out for the retaining wall, but time constraints and the weather both conspire against me) as well as getting the side and back gardens looking good – I’ll try and sort out photos of that too.
• I bought Hels a bike for her birthday and this has spurred me to sort out getting my bike restored after having left it in a shed for six years following the spectacular failure of the derailleur whilst bombing along the Avenue de Chartres in Chichester in 2000. Following a suggestion from Kate, I’ve taken it to Baker Street Bikes in Brighton for restoration and should get it back on Wednesday. All I’ll need then is to add a child seat for Tom and we’ll then be able to go out on family cycle trips (although bike mounts for the roof bars on the car would be good and I think I’d like to have the chance to dump the child seat so that I can get a few miles in on my own terms too).
• We’ve started doing a bit more work to the house – currently, we’re remodelling the bathroom. Not a major change, just new paint, new taps and a new shower screen. We’re also eyeing the conservatory combine harvester (shhh, don’t tell Dave), which needs some major work – we’ve spied a couple of rotten timbers, which isn’t good. Repainting of the kitchen is also scheduled in for “somewhen”.
• Tom has taken to refusing to go to sleep in the evening. We’ve just had him up for a 9.30pm snack, which he took whilst lounging in front of the telly in the living room – he has the makings of a good couch potato.
• Finally, it’s the Garden and Art Event at West Dean, near Chichester, this coming weekend. I organise it. I’m seriously hoping that the weather improves considerably between now and then.

More updates. Soon. I promise.

Happy birthday to Mrs Graybo, who is [knows better than that!] years old today. Cake has been consumed (by me, at least).

Tom was most excited by the presence of paper, cards and gifts this morning, but less impressed that there was nothing in the way of gifts for him. It looks like he’ll be more aware of presents by the time Christmas and his birthday come around than he was for the last time.

I understand that following some of the links that I’ve posted recently on this site, people are wondering what is going on in our lives. So I’d like to clear up a few things.

• yes, we’re thinking about moving.
• no, we will not be moving for some time, at least two years.
• yes, we are looking at the Netherlands. Why? Because houses are considerably cheaper there and we want to reduce the amount of our income that we spend on our mortgage each month. In addition, a lot of my work is in the Netherlands (at least as much as is in the UK), we like it there and it was recently ranked the best industrialized nation in which to bring up a child by the UN (compared to the UK which was ranked the worst nation).
• BUT, it is not a certainty that we will move there. At the moment, we are deeply involved in research which includes:

1. working out where to live
2. deciding what we can afford
3. looking at what mortgage we could get
4. investigating employment options for Hels
5. sussing out education and childcare facilities
6. language, running a business, mortgage system, property law, tax system – everything! There are lots of hidden factors to consider.

• IF we go there, then we would rent for at least one year to test the water – and if it didn’t work out, we could move back to England or to another place.
• we are also investigating other alternatives – in every town we visit, in the UK and abroad, we always look through estate agent windows, partly out of unbridled noseyness and curiosity and partly out of serious research to see what property we could afford if we moved to that area. So far our research has shown that moving within the south east of England would not improve our lot – either we’d still have a vast mortgage or we’d be in Ramsgate.
• in any case, whatever we decide, we have a whole bunch of factors to consider. These include but are not limited to (and in no particular order):

1. Tom – particularly the environment and education/childcare
2. us – we want a nice house in a relatively green neighbourhood (i.e. not a concrete neighbourhood) with a little garden and enough room for us to not be under each other’s feet
3. work – both for me and for Hels as, without work that we enjoy and which pays reasonably, our life would be poorer in terms of quality or money or both
4. family – we are close to both sides of the family and we want to be somewhere that is relatively easy for them to access, including by public transport
5. cats – they’re important too! So no main road homes for us and always at least a little garden, even if/when we rent.

So you see that nothing is certain. Well, almost nothing. The only thing that is certain is that the current fixed rate period on our mortgage expires on 31 December 2008, which is why there is a window of opportunity for moving around that time and into early 2009 (if we move before then, we have to pay a heavy penalty to our lender when we redeem the mortgage) – and we don’t want to leave it much later than that as we want to get Tom settled in a new home before he starts school. The reason for moving is also fairly certain - we want to move in order to achieve either a reduction in our mortgage liability and/or an increase in our living space.

Even the “when” is not guaranteed. As we all know, events have a habit of overtaking one’s plans, so we have no idea what might happen over the next two years. I think the only thing that is likely to remain constant is the “why”. The “what”, “where” and even the “how” are all still to be decided.

At the moment, the mission is research. And with a life-change of this magnitude, I think anyone would agree that we need to be thorough and use all the time available to our advantage.

Two things.

• Today I planted a tree – a belated monument to Tom’s first birthday. It’s a Carpinus betulus Fastigiata, probably better known to you as a Columnar Hornbeam. It’ll be here long after we move away (whenever that may be) and will, I hope, add something to our part of Ruralville. Credit to our friend and neighbour Simon for helping to source some poo (of the well-rotten, bovine variety).
• I note that Brighton and Hove Albion players seem suddenly to have remembered that the purpose of the game of football is to direct the muddy sphere into your opponents’ goal whilst doing all that you can to prevent your opponents from directing the same muddy sphere into your own goal. Wonders will never cease.

I referred in my last post to having "man flu". In truth, Tom first caught a heavy cold about two and half weeks ago and, whilst cheerful throughout it all in that Tom way, he was laid pretty low by it. Inevitably, Hels and I both caught it – it’s one of the worst colds I’ve had for years, causing aching muscles and particularly high levels of discomfort.

On Saturday, it took a new and more unpleasant turn for me. Neither of us had been sleeping well for several nights, so we were pretty run down. During Friday night, I got acute discomfort in my jaw which I guessed (correctly as it turns out) was down the the virus shifting around in my sinuses. Very early on Saturday morning, I started to get severe pain in my left ear which got worse and worse as the morning went on, with pressure building ever higher. As I found out later, what had happened was that the virus had got into the Eustachian tube causing it to swell up and close. Consequently (turn away now if you are squeamish) there was a mucus build up in my inner ear (hence the pain). In these circumstances, something has to give and, at around lunchtime on Saturday, that something was my ear drum. My ear has been oozing unpleasantness ever since, and I’ve lost most of my hearing in my left ear.

Thankfully, my parents came to our aid and took Tom for a couple of days. Hels took me to casualty and we were seen promptly by an excellent doctor who explained it all clearly (and spoke into my good ear!), and prescribed some painkillers and antibiotics.

I can assure you that this experience is really quite distressing.

On the plus side, most perforations of the ear drum heal well and quite quickly, with normal hearing usually restored. Let’s hope that that is the case. I’ve made an appointment with my GP for next Monday (as advised by the doctor in casualty) who will check the progress of the healing and will either send me on my way if things are going well or refer me to the ENT clinic if there is a problem. If I get to ENT then, depending on the severity of the problem, I might have to have surgery ranging from a graft to repair the ear drum through to more invasive surgery if there is damage to the inner ear. These are not prospects that I particularly look forward to.

Can I be honest? I hate the fact that my hearing is gone. I’m filled with dread at the notion that Tom might grow up and I might not be able to hear him properly. I’m also scared about what this means for me in my business (I need to be able to communicate). I am not a happy bunny at the moment. And I still haven’t shifted the cold, which is adding to my woes.

• Tom was one yesterday – it’s been both the longest and fastest year of my life (and Hels’s too, I think it is fair to say - and, by definition, Tom’s). We celebrated with cake, balloons and a trip to a farm. There shall be further celebrations at the weekend.
• We had snow last night. Up to six inches of the stuff is forecast to fall tonight. That should make for an interesting commute for Hels in the morning. Tom was non-plussed when I introduced him to the stuff this morning. His face simply said: "cold. wet. yuk."
• I’m in Germany at the moment for an enormous trade event. I’ve just had dinner in the hotel restaurant, which was eye-wateringly expensive. At the next table was Michael Heseltine. He was not wearing a loin cloth.
• I really need to update this site more often. Sorry.
• This site and my email (including work email) have been down for most of the day due to problems at 34SP. Apparently, the aircon failed causing the servers to overheat. I couldn’t help thinking that, on the coldest day of the winter so far, opening the window would soon solve the problem.

• I will finish that unfinished post that has been lurking in my Drafts folder since, oh, August. It has pictures too.
• I will finish that redesign that I started. I know you can’t see any evidence of it yet, but I promise that it will be good. Very good indeed.
• I ordered some CDs a while ago for some friends to bring over from the US. I ordered them on 28 December. My card was charged on 29 December. It is 16 January today and they have still not arrived and my friends fly today. The company concerned is not responding to calls or email. UPDATE: the CDs arrived the day after they left. So they are now being FedExed to catch up with them as they work their way eastwards (visiting clients across the US), which largely defeats the object of having them delivered to their office. Ho hum.
• I ordered a replacement remote control for my mum. The company concerned sent a non-original replacement (they didn’t make that clear on the website) which was not compatible (mum’s telly is a video-TV combi and this remote had no video controls). They didn’t respond to emails. I’ve just called them and they didn’t once apologise for sending the wrong item, could not explain why my email was not answered (didn’t even attempt to find out) and did not offer to pay for the return of the incorrect item. The operator managed to convey a sincere feeling of not giving a stuff. That company is AV UK Limited and I heartily recommend that you avoid them.
• This site is being a bit flaky lately. 34SP insist it isn’t them, but I can’t imagine where else there might be a problem.
• I’m up to my eyes in work.
• Tom will be one next week – send money.
• If I get another one of those Harris Exploration Hits Gold spam mails, I will scream. AAAAARGHH!

It’s that time of year again. Last year, I made five resolutions. I have made a good start on the first one, although it is a massive project and has taken much longer than anticipated, not least due to distractions of the Tom kind. The second I failed on miserably. The third hasn’t gone too badly, although it has improved of late. The fourth, well let’s not go there, shall we? – only 186 posts this year, including this one – not good enough. And the fifth one I’ve done reasonably well on – I’m certainly a lot happier on that score than I was this time last year.

So, for 2007, I’ll continue the good work where the good work has started. Beyond that, I haven’t really got that much that I feel I particularly want to resolve to do – there is plenty to keep me occupied.

2006 has been a year like none before it, entirely due to the arrival of Tom. He has, as I expected, changed life totally and for the better. In addition, we’ve had a lot of travel (I’ve been to Ireland, Netherlands, Belgium, France, Italy, Spain and Hungary this year) and there is more planned for 2007, with trips to Germany, France, Netherlands (naturally), Portugal, Poland, Ireland and Italy on the cards. 2006 has also seen us starting to make new long term plans. We’re not yet sure if they will come to fruition, but the notion of emigrating doesn’t look beyond the realms of plausibility. We’re also much closer to finally sorting out our finances, which has to be a good thing and has implications for all areas of life.

New Year’s Eve this year will be spent with friends, eating and drinking too much whilst (hopefully) Tom sleeps. Then I’ve got to wind myself back up in to work mode after an extended Christmas break – which, when I wasn’t being ill, I’ve enjoyed and was much needed, particularly as I’ve spent nearly the whole break at home with Hels and Tom, undoubtedly a good thing.

Happy New Year to all grayblog readers. Keep coming back if you like this sort of thing.

This is going to be a not-quite-normal Christmas. Firstly, it’s our first Christmas as a threesome, although Tom doesn’t really have an inkling as to what it is all about. I’m sure that he will be more excited by the wrapping paper, ribbon and boxes than by the gifts themselves, although I suspect that the maracas, tambourine and glockenspiel will all be hits as they all make a good noise. Shopping for Tom is remarkably easy (the problem is knowing when to stop) and we’ve worked particularly hard to buy only a moderate number of presents and to aim for quality over cheap tat.

However, this Christmas will also be not-quite-normal as we all fight illness. Tom has a stomach bug which has resulted in vomiting and diarrhoea, although he has remained remarkably cheerful in spite of it all. I took him to the out-of-hours clinic last night for a little medical reassurance (“plenty fluids, a little Calpol, lay off rich food – call back if anything changes”) and he sat on my knee smiling broadly at the doctor (but then he is a bit of a flirt, so I shouldn’t be surprised). Hels has sinusitis, which is causing her to be nauseous and dizzy as well as taking all the flavour and fun out of food. She spent much of today in bed and seems a little better this evening. As for me, I’m pretty tired out by caring for them both and tonight I feel a little flaky – I’m hoping that is a symptom of fatigue and not a harbinger of Tom’s tummy bug (having been around unpleasant nappies for the last two days, nothing would surprise me).

But the presents are wrapped (I’m just tying ribbon on the last few), the cards are delivered (save for three to be dropped through neighbours’ doors in a moment) and the fire is burning (although we can’t get near it for cats). I’m just about to break open the Bristol Cream and Hels is browsing the TV guide. Tomorrow we begin the round of parental visits with my parents, followed by my in-laws on Boxing Day.

All we need now is a holiday. Merry Christmas.

UPDATE: I was struck down on the evening of Christmas Day by Norwalk virus – look it up if you want to know the symptoms, but I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say that I’m a few pounds lighter now. Tom is better but Hels is still not well.
And, as if anticipating my holiday sentiment, my brother and his fiancée gave us a bunch of hotel vouchers so that we can take a break.

• Grunty Muck-Lane has a rant about people getting his name wrong. I have the same problem with Graeme Spenser.
• Towns across Europe are removing road signs, wholesale. The Dutch, in particular, are less profligate with road signs than we are in nanny-state Britain, but Hungary tops the list of countries I have visited recently for roadsignlessness. via linkbunnies.
• Looks like we need to buy one of these now that Tom has discovered forward gear when crawling. I’ve been sitting in the conservatory typing this and he has just got halfway here from the living room to see what I’m up to. And I’ve noticed that he is useful for getting the dust from under the stairs – it’s only a matter of time before I can start sending him up chimneys.
• America may finally embrace a dollar coin. About time, in my view. I think there will soon be some enthusiasm here to see the £5 and €5 notes replaced with coins, as they get tatty so quickly.

Discovery of the week: saying "sausages" in the style of the dog that was on That’s Life!, oh, twenty five years ago, has the ability to reduce my son to giggle fits.

This week has included:

• learning that a friend and client is very unwell
• literally dozens of phone conversations with two different sets of lawyers and two different sets of surveyors
• realising that I’ve cocked up my plan to go to a trade show in Poland (note to self: VIII means August, not September – d’oh!)
• dropping a client because he is really not on my wavelength and I can’t be bothered to struggle for what would be a potentially small reward
• getting a very long document from the Borough Council
• not getting a whole bunch of things sorted out that I planned to do this week
• cleaning up purple projectile vomit after Tom had blackberries for tea (he’s fine now, but I’ve got to redecorate a wall)
• having to clean the cat litter tray every day after one or other of them decided that the garden was too cold and wet to use now that the weather has turned.

And that is just what I’ve had to do – Hels has had just as much. 

But there are positive things too:

• Sussex beat Durham in the cricket
• it rained (very good news in this part of the world)
• we caught up with some people in the pub
• it’s Friday
• we’re going on holiday soon
• Tom “pulled” a waitress in the place we went to today for lunch (very funny – you had to be there)

So it’s not all bad. It just feels that way.

This list of things that "every child should do" comes via the linkbunnies. I like the idea of number 32.

How many of these things did you do before your tenth birthday?

Let’s make a list:

• broken router
• broken down car
• tenant in H’s flat has served notice to leave – we’re advised to expect two months without rental income
• car still faulty
• two hours on hold to BT
• uncomfortably hot
• one of my customers is misbehaving and it could, potentially, end in litigation
• mother-in-law melted some of Tom’s bottles (don’t ask)

And it’s only Wednesday.

This morning, I think I became truly middle class. I achieved this by putting Tom in his seat in the back of my car and driving the mile-and-a-half to his childminder’s house (I have considered pushing Tom in his buggy, but it’s a very dangerous lane). There were two other parents there dropping off their children and, on the way home, I had to fight my way through the congestion around Ruralville school where dozens of parents were delivering offspring.

Tom, like the rest of us, is struggling with the current heatwave. We reached 36 Celsius yesterday here and the poor lad was wilting a bit. He sleeps in the afternoon more than usual and then is awake in the evening when he would normally be in bed. So life is all a bit upside down.

Today the temperature is a little lower, but the humidity is up so it is no less comfortable. I’ve struggling to keep going, my PC fan is going mad and the cats can barely drag themselves around. Typical English – never satisfied by the weather.

For once, this isn’t a post making lame excuses for the lack of new content on this site. Instead, I’m remarking on the fact that it’s a bit quiet at home today, even though Tom is here, my mum is here and the two cats are around somewhere (although trying desperately to find somewhere shady and cool, much like the rest of us).

The reason it is quiet is that Hels has gone back to work today for the first time in seven months. To say that she was not looking forward to it is an understatement – the thought of having to deal with daily stresses, irritating people and a stifling office environment are not the things that encourage someone to be enthusiastic. Added to that, H feels guilty at leaving Tom. Tom, of course, is going to be ably cared for by a combination of grandparents, childminder and me, so he’ll be fine. Furthermore, H is caring for him in a way by going out and earning the money we need to keep home and family together. So I’ve suggested that she shouldn’t feel guilty or even worried, but I guess it’s a natural reaction.

Meanwhile, I’ve had my mum for company today and she and Tom have taken a nap this afternoon on the lawn in some shade. She’s ably dealt with trying to get Tom to eat food he doesn’t really like, drink water that he doesn’t really want (I’m concerned about fluid intake in this heat) and is currently poaching some chicken for his tea this evening.

But it’s not the same as having Hels here every day. Anyone want to make a cash donation so we don’t have to work and can just enjoy Tom together?

Last night, we took Tom to his first ever cricket match, the Twenty20 fixture between Sussex and Hampshire at the gorgeously beautiful ground at Arundel. It looked like we (Sussex) were going to lose for most of our innings, but a late flurry of boundaries soon put paid to the opposition. Tom clearly is a lucky person to take along – maybe I should take him to a few Seagulls fixtures next season. He took the whole thing in his stride, as he tends to do, although he was a little alarmed by the shouts from the crowd and the loud music as Luke Wright and Yasir Arafat (insert joke about dishdash here) swiped umpteen boundaries in the last three overs to wrap it up.

One thing the BBC report doesn’t mention is the way in which Matt Prior was dismissed. Chris Adams was batting at the other end and was caught from a no-ball. He started to walk but then people in the crowd shouted that it was a no-ball. By this point, the Hampshire players were together celebrating and Matt Prior was still half way down the strip. Everyone looked to the umpire, who confirmed that the batsman was not out, at which point the Hampshire fielders realised that Prior was out of his crease and threw down the stumps. Prior briefly protested to the umpire (he clearly hadn’t realised that it was a no-ball) before walking. Is there a Law on how a no-ball should be called by the umpire? In any case, it was certainly pretty unsporting on the part of the Hampshire players.

We topped the night out with a cup of tea with the bikers at the Hikers café at Whiteways on the way home. Frankly, if ever you think that a bunch of bikers makes you feel threatened, you should go and see the bikers there – mostly middle-aged men (some women too), standing around drinking tea and discussing health issues and the correct daily fluid intake (presumably in the form of tea), as far as I could make out.

We stopped in West Cove, Co. Kerry, because we saw a sign that said there was a bakery selling pastries and ice creams. We never found the bakery – instead we found a small cove with a pretty quay and a handful of houses. It was almost deserted save for a few blokes going off to harvest mussels and this chap, rowing his way across the bay in his yellow boat.

Fording a stream on the beach at Ballinskelligs, Co. Kerry. Buying the expensive all-terrain pushchair proved to be a worthwhile investment as we explored one of the cleanest, most peaceful and beautiful beaches I think there must be in the British Isles. Mind you, I’m sure that salt water and sand do nothing for a pushchair’s longevity.

Tom = 100. A few thoughts and observations:

• becoming a parent is daunting. But once you get into it, most of the day-to-day stuff is actually quite straight forward, at least with a very young baby. There isn’t much more to do that put food in at one end and deal with the product at the other end. But there is interaction too, an increasing amount as the baby grows older. Tom now giggles and laughs at his silly mum and dad, and he is curious about everything that is around him. And that is very rewarding.
• I don’t know if we are very lucky with Tom, but he has turned out to be very adaptable. We spent all of last week in Ireland with Tom spending long periods in the car, being in a new place every day and sleeping in four different cots over an eight day period. But was he fazed? Not a bit. He takes it all in his stride, either because he is a happy baby or because we try not to coddle him too much and have, right from the first days, encouraged him to feel confident in his environment by being there, caring for him, but not smothering him.
• as parents, you must be adaptable too. We’ve found ourselves changing mucky nappies on the floor of restaurant toilets. A four hour car journey becomes a six hour trip once you build in a couple of Tom breaks in service stations for bottle and bottom. Early to bed and early to rise is the new reality (still looking forward to the wealthy and wise bits). But, in the grand scheme of things, these are not major changes – you just need to think ahead a bit (and I must admit that Hels is better at that than me – she’s the one who always packs plentiful supplies of nappies and wipes as well as a change of clothes for Tom, wherever we go).
• you will find yourselves pulled in all directions. If you think that, as a couple, you find you are short of time compared to when you were single (two lots of family, two lots of friends), add in a baby and that feeling is doubled, trebled. Everyone wants to spend time with the baby (apart from those who don’t want a baby anywhere near them) and you could easily find yourself running here, there and everywhere. Planning is the key again – we try hard to block out chunks of days where we don’t have anything to do or anyone to see, just so that we get some “we time” (“me time” is a thing of the past).
• having a baby is expensive. Child benefit helps, but it pays for little more than nappies and wipes. And there is a certain competitiveness amongst parents of a certain sort – they want the best push-chair (guilty as charged – but well worth it), the smartest clothes (Tom has smart clothes, but a very large proportion of his wardrobe was purchased second hand, either via the NCT or from a couple of good second hand stores), the most toys (Tom has some, but not thousands – and we tend to prefer simple toys to fancy things with flashes and beeps) and the best of everything else. It pays to step back and remember that most of it isn’t necessary – we didn’t have it when we were children and nor did our parents. And the less you have, the more room you will have in your house!
• you will catch yourself swearing in front of the baby (for instance, when you pour scalding water over your hand when fighting with the microwave sterilizer) and think “hmm, I really should stop that, else his first word will be fuck”.
• and it’s all worth every minute, especially when he has a "chat" with his dad in the morning.

Here’s a question for all of you who know about this sort of thing. My camera can record video in Quicktime .MOV format and I’ve used it to record Tom. The problem is, I’ve held the camera in portrait position (as Tom, when being held by his mum, is more vertical than horizontal).

When we play back the video using Quicktime viewer on the laptop, we can see him beautifully and hear his gurgling noises wonderfully. However, we see him beautifully in landscape format – he’s on his side. Nowhere in the Quicktime controls (I’m using the free download, not the Pro version) is there a "rotate" control.

Any ideas for either:

• a player that can view .MOV files and rotate them (preferably a free player), or
• a player that can play other formats and rotate them, and a converter to convert from .MOV to the appropriate format (can Windows Movie Maker rotate? if so, I have that, but need a (preferably free) conversion tool).

Suggest-o.

• get up early
• study BBC online weather forecast – observe white fluffy cloud symbol and yellow sun symbol and assume the day is set fair
• saw logs so as to make them more woodpile-friendly
• create new border in the garden
• go to nearby farm to purchase a sack of well rotted cow poo for said border for one of your fine English pounds
• apply poo to new border
• get changed from poo-ey clothes
• welcome brother-in-law to house
• drive to extremely nice nearby public house
• park car
• strap small child to chest in slightly bizarre harness device
• walk in opposite direction to public house wiuth a view to making a large circuit, returning to said public house with hearty appetite for fine ales
• observe rapidly deteriorating weather conditions
• wade through mud, fight brambles, attempt to pacify child – all in steady rain and a cool breeze – whilst cheerfully reassuring one another that the weather "will blow over in a minute and surely improve"
• reach a farm with a large barn
• take shelter in said barn
• change child’s nappy and then eat sandwiches whilst heavy rain continues, whilst regretting not bringing any sort of waterproof clothing for anyone other than small child – the same small child who, whilst being only 12 weeks old, has already developed the ability to laugh and point at his soaking wet father from within the warmth and dryness of his red waterproof
• decide that the rain is not going to stop
• run back through the mud and rain to the car, leaving brother-in-law, wife and child in barn
• drive back to collect rest of party and then home, to glorious sunshine
• head to the pub next door for a pint or two
• return home, eat pie
• search for hotel for stay in Budapest – realise that no hotel there has been renovated since 1967. Decide to seek advice from the only person I know with much experience of the Hungarian capital.
• read the best post in ages on Parallax View – end the day contented

Dreaming of being a superhero?

What a fruitless day. A large chunk of it was spent trying to track down the correct brake parts for Hels’s car – ultimately I gave up searching the interwebnet and went to my local garage where they, helpfully, assured me that they were as confused as I am and suggested that the best thing to do was to take the old ones off and take them as patterns to a motor factor. Hmm.

After that, I went seeking some transparency film. Call me old-fashioned, call me a luddite, but don’t call me late for tea (very old family joke – sorry). "Why do I want transparency film?" I hear you ask. Well, the answer is that you don’t want it, I do. The reason is that I need to update my slide collection that I use when I’m giving presentations, particularly with new pictures of some of the plants that I look after in my work. But does anyone sell transparency film any more? Nope. Finally, I tracked down a particularly obscure old-fashioned photographic shop in a particularly obscure corner of NearbyTown (which is obscure in itself) and purchased two rolls of Konico-Minolta 100ASA film – not my preferred brand (always been a FujiFilm kind of guy), but given a choice of that or nothing, that will do.

I’ve also purchased a new (25 year old) lens for my (equally old) Olympus OM2N – my current one is not in the best of health and, for the sake of ten quid, the new one might just be better. Of course, the camera is not technically mine, as it really belongs to my brother, but as it has been in my possession for a considerable number of years now and he hasn’t asked for it back, I’m claiming squatter’s rights.

Subsequently, I’ve discovered that the camera had a part-exposed roll of film inside. So I’ve squandered the remaining frames on pictures of plants, of Tom and of the cats (Monty is so much better at posing than Treacle) and dropped it into Boots. I’ll be able to collect it on Saturday and, as I’ve asked for a CD of scans, you might get to see some pictures from it too. Of course, since it must be at least three years old, there is no telling what is on the first 23 frames of film. I suspect that it may well feature ex-girlfriends, which could make it, um, interesting. Hels has already said that she will delight in destroying any such photos as soon as possible. I’ll keep you posted.

Polio – check

Diphtheria – check

Whooping cough – check

Hib – check

Tetanus – check

Meningitis C – check

One sore and irritable infant – check

Two things:

• I’m never going to look at a jar of Loyd Grossman curry sauce the same way ever again.
• Why don’t we have this service available here? Apparently, this company is now offering this service in Australia, the Netherlands and California. Let’s just hope that it is a matter of time, as I’d certainly feel much happier knowing that Tom’s pooped pants were being recycled.

Avid comment readers will know that we have introduced formula feeding for Tom as a supplement to boob-milk. It allows us a little more flexibility, in that I’m the one responsible for preparation and application of the bottle, giving H a well-earned rest. The plan is also that it allows us a bit more sleep, as a bottle tends to leave baby feeling more full and less inclined to snack.

Well, based on just two nights’ experience, it seems to have worked. Sunday night was reasonably good but last night was the best yet – bottle at 10pm, then a feed at 3-ish and another around 7am. H and I are both feeling much better for getting something approaching a decent night’s sleep – we’re probably better able to cope with the demands of the day. Spectacular smelly orange poo is the downside, but we can cope with that with the aid of a gas mask and full chemical protection suit.

We plan to keep using the free mum-milk for at least another month and then make the transition to 100% formula feeding, although that depends on how things go over the next few weeks. At the moment, we’re using just one bottle a day. But we think that now is the best time to do this – six weeks of 100% boob-milk has been good for Tom and good for mother-baby bonding. And boob-milk is free, whereas formula is about £7 per tin, plus sterilizing costs.

In other non-baby news, it looks like we might make some progress on finally getting the repairs done to the leaky lead flashing around our chimney. I’m slaving over a hot laptop, trying to keep/catch up with work, including installing a blog on my work website to replace the news page (obvious really – should have done it ages ago). And I’ve been doing some work on the garden, clearing dead trees, trimming the hedge and psyching myself up for attacking the major project that is the front garden. Maybe this weekend?

As we go along with parenthood, we’re slowly discovering more and more things that you are either not told about beforehand or are glossed over. So, in order to forewarn a few other prospective parents, here are a few that we’ve found out:

• sleep deprivation. OK, so everyone jokes about the fact that when the baby comes, you won’t get much sleep. It’s always mentioned and, as soon as it is, everyone sits back in their chair and laughs. Heartily. But it really is no laughing matter and the severity and impact of sleep deprivation is not to be underestimated. Sleep deprivation has so many knock-on effects. It makes you short tempered and irritable, generally lacking in patience. For a breast feeding mother, sleep deprivation makes what can be a difficult and tiring task doubly so. And for a father, it makes your workspace seem like a terribly attractive place to take a nap (if only I could afford the time to do that – I’m working 9 or 10 hour days at my desk, plus taking the laptop into the house in the evening to do a little more). How anyone who already has children copes with this, I really don’t know.
• looking after an ill baby is even less fun. Tom has a cold. As a consequence, he is finding breathing difficult, particularly when feeding. He also has problems with catarrh so that he is coughing quite a bit as he clears his chest and isn’t sleeping terribly well. As parents, it is difficult at first to understand what the problem is – your child can’t talk and say “Mum, I’ve got a cold” or “Dad, I’m all blocked up”. When the baby starts to cry, you work through a mental checklist (hungry? dirty nappy? too hot? too cold? cholic? needing a hug? ummm – now what?) but when you get to the end of the list, you are left flicking through books or wondering if you should call up the GP. Fortunately, the onset of this illness coincided fairly well with a scheduled visit from the health visitor, and she decided fairly quickly that Tom was suffering from nothing more serious than a cold. A check-up with the GP confirmed this (the GP was actually very pleased with his progress and seemed to spend most of the consultation comparing Tom to actors and dead politicians). But it does nothing for the stress levels.
• mastitis hurts. And compounds all of the above problems. There is a lot more to it than that, but I’m not sure that Hels would appreciate me discussing that here!
• nappies aren’t made for bottoms. First nappies are quickly out-grown. Yet the next size up seems huge by comparison, so much so that I have little confidence that the nappy won’t leak because it doesn’t make a good dry seal around Tom’s legs. We’ve already had a couple of unpleasant leakage experiences. Not nice.

But in spite of all of the difficulties, when he’s laying on his playmat and follows you with his eyes as you walk around the room, perhaps even throwing the odd smile or gurgled giggle in for good measure, you can’t help but think that it’s all worth it.

Karen responds to my post about becoming a father. I’ve added comments to her post too.

Being a parent is an utterly exhausting experience. Long nights of fitful sleep with an ear cocked for gurgles, snuffles, whimpers and the occasional outright cry. Disgusting nappies and fountains of pee add to the experience. But the rewards are fantastic. Tom is already fixing his gaze on our faces when we hold him and displaying a definite sparkle in his eyes. Starting as we mean to go on, and following a tip from our midwife, we’ve succeeded in teaching young Tom to stick his tongue out at people. Next is the challenge of teaching him to blow raspberries. From there, it’ll be a short step to having him swear like a trooper.

I know that one or two regular readers are either expecting a child or considering parenthood, so here are a few handy tips from our experience:

• You will get more advice than you can handle. It will come from family and friends; from books and health professionals; even from total strangers. Most of it will be contradictory. Much of it will be totally useless. Nearly all of it should be ignored. Everyone is being genuinely caring and trying to be helpful – I do appreciate those sentiments. But after a while, you will be totally overwhelmed and wish that it would stop. With this in mind, I’ll try to keep the rest of this post concise and truly useful.
• Don’t waste too much time and money on books. We had a good pile of books about pregnancy which were obtained at not inconsiderable expense. Most are still unread, even though the pregnancy is now complete. The most useful book that we had is the free one given out by the NHS – it has got all the essential information presented in an unvarnished style. It answered most of the questions that we had.
• Ante-natal classes are well worth attending. We tried to get on to the NCT classes, but these do involve a not insubstantial fee – as it was, they could only fit us on a course that started 14 days before the due date. If Tom had come early, they would have been useless. They also tend to have components related to breathing (I practice every day, so I’m quite proficient) and vocalizing your pain (a.k.a.: screaming). Instead, we went to the classes held by the NHS at the hospital where Tom was born. These were run by the midwife team there, were informal (and irreverent), free and, like the NHS book, told us what we needed to know in a concise and unvarnished manner, including a tour of the facilities (knowing your way around is vital). The NCT classes are reputed to have a social element which we found was also present in the NHS classes – we’ve made friends with a couple who had a son two weeks before Tom, with whom we can now share experiences and, more usefully, a pint.
• Birth plans are useless. Mostly. Most books will advise you to make a birth plan. We had a plan that extended to a whole sheet of A4. When it came to the crunch, everything on the plan went out the window – the only thing that actually came to pass was that I was present at the birth. However, making a birth plan does serve the purpose of forcing you to research all the things that might happen and understand what the choices are and what they might mean. That knowledge was very useful on the day, at least for me, as I was able to guide Hels through the process and choices as we went (she was a little distracted to be able to think consecutively – I can’t imagine why).
• Mothers – do not expect to have a shred of dignity remaining after more than 5 minutes in hospital. Any air of mystery that you have tried to maintain around your partner will also disappear. Let’s face it, you’re going to be in agony, shouting and screaming, with all your bits on display. Get used to the idea – once you do, you’ll relax a bit more. And you’ll need your sense of humour.
• Fathers – be warned that midwives will size you up in seconds. I had what can only be described as a very hands-on role in the delivery of my son, acting as the midwife’s assistant throughout the entire process. This did mean rolling my sleeves up and getting my hands dirty. It was only afterwards that we learned that, when you arrive in the delivery suite with your partner, the midwife will use her experience to quickly get a measure of you. If she thinks that you are the type who is going to sit in the corner and pass out at the sight of blood, then you will be given a seat and a corner and left to it. If, on the other hand, you come across as being made of stronger stuff, then you’d better be ready for some hard work. If you can, try to get the latter result (if you think you have the stomach for it) – helping our midwife deliver Tom is going to be an experience that will be with me for the rest of my days. It also means that you are too busy to pass out!
• Be prepared to be very, very scared. When we got to the end of labour, one or two things started to go a little awry. Tom was born at 5.18pm, with the midwife cutting the cord and then turning to her assistant (the official one, that is, who was present only for the final few minutes) and saying “Theatre! Now!”. Tom disappeared through the doors and was gone and we were left wondering what the hell was going on and if our child was alive or what. As it turned out, Tom was not breathing and needed to go to theatre (the next room) to be given a bit of a kick start in that department. A minute later, the nurse came back and held the door of the delivery room open so that we could hear him crying. I don’t think I’ve ever be so relieved in all my life.
• Post-natal wards are the noisiest places on Earth. You think your local bypass is noisy? Or that nearby building site? That’s got nothing on the post-natal ward. Twenty mums, twenty newborns, twenty partners, perhaps twelve staff. You will not find a quiet corner. Mums should not expect to get much sleep.
• Keep the number of visitors to an absolute minimum. Everyone will want to see you and your baby. Both parents will be utterly exhausted and will want the baby to sleep whenever he/she can as it gives them a chance for a little shut-eye. Even your parents can be told to hold-off visiting for a while. The only person you will welcome into your home will be the community midwife.
• You will end up with three pushchairs. Fact. Get used to it.
• You will go around grinning like a loon. Assuming you’re not fast asleep at the time. And your child will be the most beautiful baby in the world. You will turn into a baby bore. It’s fantastic, though you may seriously consider whether you would ever wish to put yourselves through it for a second time.

How the same toy varies from one side of the English Channel to the other. Thanks Jen.

Please welcome Thomas Oliver Henry to the world. Born at 5.18pm on Monday 23rd January, Tom weighed a “healthy” 9lb 8.2oz, as proven by this photograph. That’s 4.32 kilograms if you like that.

I’ll have more to tell you in due course, but for now it is enough to say that mother and baby are doing well, are now at home and in need of much rest. And Dad is very very proud.