That's what friends are for

It's the beginning of a Bank Holiday weekend (you may've noticed).

Now I, like most people, look forward to such occasions. You can drink a bit more than normal. You can go to see a bit of sport. You can go away. You can do absolutely nothing if you want. And when it's over, you only have a four-day week to tackle before lying down again for another couple of days.

That's how I like to see things at least.

However, this weekend was set to be very different.

With the baby now due in just 33 days, I had a list of chores as long as a long man's long arm. Fair enough - I am very excited and equally determined to ensure I've played my full part in preparing for its arrival. Obviously. Doing, you know, the "man stuff."

But what are you supposed to do when your best mate (who you hardly ever see) gets in touch to say he's coming all the way from Cardiff for the weekend? And he's even bringing his brand new girlfriend with him for you to meet.

I know - you drop everything and you prepare to entertain!

John (pictured) and his new lady Kate will be here around lunchtime, at which point I will fire up the barbeque and off we go! (Don't worry, Vanessa will be there - I've given her the weekend off too. Only fair).

The one concession to babyhood - other than assuring Vanessa that it's all baby and no she hasn't gained weight, no really - will be a quick visit to the baby furniture shop on Sunday to pick up some prior purchases. More of that another time.

Whatever happens over the next three days - and I have a sneeking suspicion that we might be forced to have fun - things will definitely quicken up a pace in the fatherhood stakes next week.

OK, our guests don't leave 'til Monday. And we're out on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. But on Thursday, I'm a-hammering and a-painting and a-wallpapering. Oh yes.

Almost certainly.