Lost in Mothercare

I’ve had my first lost a child scare. Only for a couple of minutes, but it was scary none-the-less.

It went like this…

H was working and i was charged with obtaining a Gillet (fancy name for a body warmer) for Mathilda. Charlie has one and Mathilda always wants to wear it. Mothercare have them . . . → Read More: Lost in Mothercare

Daddy Daycare

I’ve just started a new contract so last friday was my last day of Daddy Daycare for the time being.

And here is the photographic evidence of this auspicious event, which took place in the garden and down the swings.

Hunting for Worms


Gilbert without George


. . . → Read More: Daddy Daycare

Pulling his Plonker


The new way to have fun in the bath for the boy/girl twins around town goes like this:

Charlie stands up. Mathilda, with the touch of a butcher wearing oven gloves, grabs and pulls his winkle. They both laugh, until Charlie gets fed up and cries.

I’d love to get some film to use . . . → Read More: Pulling his Plonker

Obsession. Pour Homme.

We have our first character crush.

And it couldn’t be directed at a more dated, harsh, irrelevant and boring bunch of weird-eyed steam engines.


“Thomas, Thomas, Thomas”

“A Thom-as”

Bloody morning, noon and night.

You come in from work.

“Hello Charlie”

“A Thom-as”


“Say hello to Daddy”

“Thom-as, A Thom-as”

“There he is. . . . → Read More: Obsession. Pour Homme.


Mathilda has started to say yes.

Along with Charlie she’s been saying yeah for quite a few months. But over the last day or two she’s decided to make things a little more formal.

She also appears to have a slight lisp. Not permanent i’m sure, as it doesn’t appear to manifest on any other . . . → Read More: Yesth


Historically, i’ve always been much more ‘ooo aarrr’ than all of my friends.

My family are from Hampshire and I grew up, from the age of four, in Hampshire. Hampshire is not short in the ‘ooo aarrr’ stakes. But I was always more broad of accent than my friends.

I’m sure this is due to . . . → Read More: Aaaght!


The other day, whilst eating lunch, Charlie held a piece of cucumber to his ear.

The following conversation went something like this…

H “Who are you phoning, Charlie?”

Charlie “Granny”

H “Are you? What is she saying”

Charlie “Meow”

I’d like to think we are witnessing the dawn of a super creative, fertile mind. One . . . → Read More: Surrealism