Missing his granny

Jamie's been having Granny White withdrawal symptoms.

This is very sweet in many ways. On a more practical level, it has meant that Mummy and Daddy didn't get much sleep last night. And then today, Mummy has hardly had a minute's peace.

After a day out in Otley on Friday with Granny, Grandpa Derek and Mummy whilst Daddy worked (OK, he was at a works Christmas lunch), Jamie then spent all day Saturday with Granny again whilst Grandpa Derek and Daddy went to Manchester to watch City v Everton (what?!)

And yesterday, Granny, Grandpa Derek, Mummy and Daddy (yes, really) took him shopping and then on to the German market in Leeds.

Unfortunately Granny wasn't able to take Jamie on the hobby horses as originally planned as they were a little too big for him. But he did enjoy watching Mummy and Daddy knock seven bells out of each other on the dodgems.

And after being terrified to begin with, he kind of chilled out to the Oompah band in the marquee where Grandpa Derek and Daddy enjoyed a big pint. And also The Yeadon Stoops bar where they had another (and Jamie had some carrot).

But, sadly, his guests soon had to leave and the grumpiness began.

24 hours on and Jamie still isn't really himself - Grannylove is good, after all - but he is already looking forward to seeing Granny White and Grandpa Derek again next month when he goes back across the Irish Sea to see all his relatives who talk funny.

And before then - guess what? Father Christmas is coming - NOW GO TO SLEEP!

Two mad birds

My mother has a penchant for many things and one of them is comedy Christmas animals.

When Jamie and I were therefore discussing (OK, it was pretty much a one-way conversation) what we might get Granny in return for all the gifts I already knew she was bringing across for him, the answer was obvious.

And, thankfully, Wilkinson's in Bradford were able to provide.

The dancing chick we managed to lay our hands on begins by singing a few bars of We Wish You A Merry Christmas before crowing (or the chick equivalent) and then launching very aptly into The Birdie Song. A top quality act which might impress even Simon Cowell.

Prior to her arrival on Thursday evening, we offered Jamie the chance to "road test" Granny's gift. In hindsight, this was an error: it scared the bejesus out of him.

On the upside, he did recover his composure by Friday evening when he agreed to have his picture taken with the mad bird itself. And her new toy.

We're off to the German market in Leeds shortly where rumour has it there may be some hobby horses. Granny has already made clear that, should the opportunity present itself, it won't be Grandpa Derek, Mummy or Daddy accompanying the junior cowboy on his steed.

It's amazing what a bit of creative lighting can do

Earlier in the week I promised to put up a couple more pics from Jamie's recent photoshoot, this time featuring Mummy and Daddy in cameo roles. I hope you like them.

Meanwhile, my own mum and her partner Derek are delayed on their hop across the Irish Sea to visit you know who, but should be here in about an hour.

Sadly, this means they're unlikely to see Jamie until the morning although they're certain to hear him long before then - one of the "joys" of spending the night at the Whites these days.

Yes Granny, he IS eating properly!

All mums worry about whether their sons are eating properly.

However, over the last six months, I've discovered their concern doesn't end there. Hell no.

It appears they get even more exercised about whether their grandsons are eating properly too - well, my mum does.

The more eagle-eyed amongst you may have noticed that our Jamie is quite a big boy for five and a bit months. Or, to put it another way, he doesn't appear to be on the brink of starvation.

But Granny White is still worried.

As it turns out, she has had to cram her worry bouts into shorter periods over the last couple of days as her and Grandpa Derek have been packing prior to flying here tomorrow night for a long weekend visit.

So, to make her journey more relaxing, I thought I would back-up the pictures of Jamie feeding himself (which I put up on this site on Saturday) with some brief video evidence.

And, with this, I rest the case for the defence.

Bed?

Rachel - very kindly - asked for a review of The Pogues concert and I'm very happy to offer it. Fantastic.

As I said the other day, Mrs W and I have seen them many times before and tonight was as good as ever.

But, crucially, Vanessa drove - and I didn't ('cos I still can't). As a result, I feel like Shane MacGowan must feel after a Pogues gig - very pleasant but tomorrow is destined to come too soon.

Shane talentless? Pogue Mahone!

Vanessa and I are off to see The Pogues tonight and, needless to say, I'm very excited about it.

I first saw this gather-up of brilliance more than 18 years ago during my university freshers' week.

They were magnificent and the fun was mighty. However, not long after that gig, the other members decided to throw legendary frontman Shane MacGowan out of the band for drinking too much.

Talk about missing the point - it was like the Church of England sacking the Archbishop of Canterbury for being too Holy.

Shane went on to set up his own group, The Popes (do you see what he did there?) and released two successful albums whilst the remaining members of The Pogues crashed and burned.

Thankfully, the band - with Shane back in harness - reformed for a Christmas tour in 2001 and this has since become an annual event.

Vanessa and I have seen them every year apart from 2007 when we missed their Manchester gig to attend my sister's 40th birthday party (hopefully Shane understood).

Tonight they're playing the new Leeds Academy which guarantees a much shorter stagger home than normal. Can't wait.

By the way, just a little footnote on Shane MacGowan. Many people have labelled him a talentless drunk. I would beg to differ.

Yes, he may drink a few more than the recommended 21 units in an average week, but talentless? Read the words of his song Lullaby of London below and then make your own mind up:

Lullaby Of London by Shane MacGowan (1988)

As I walked down by the riverside

One evening in the spring

Heard a long gone song

From days gone by

Blown in on the great North wind

Though there is no lonesome corncrake's cry

Or sorrow and delight

You can hear the cars

And the shouts from bars

And the laughter and the fights

May the ghosts that howled

Round the house at night

Never keep you from your sleep

May they all sleep tight

Down in hell tonight

Or where ever they may be

As I walked on with a heavy heart

Then a stone danced on the tide

And the song went on

Though the lights were gone

And the North wind gently sighed

And an evening breeze coming from the East

That kissed the riverside

So I pray now child that you sleep tonight

When you hear this lullaby

May the wind that blows from haunted graves

Never bring you misery

May the angels bright

Watch you tonight

And keep you while you sleep

Model baby (tee hee!)

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that Vanessa and I had taken Jamie to have some proper photos taken.

Later in the week, I'll show you a couple more pics which also featured Mummy and Daddy but, to begin with, I think it's only right to leave the stage clear for the man himself.

Money well spent, I'd say.

No cold comfort

Jamie's got another cold, bless him.

The poor boy seems to have picked up a new cold pretty much every other week since he was born.

However, he is very brave about it and, in between coughs, sneezes and runny noses, the smile continues to burn through.

As well as these obvious symptoms, he also tends to eat a little less than normal.

But, when he does eat, he regularly insists on throwing half of it back up on me. Good work son.

He did it once late last night and then again this morning - both times followed almost immediately by a big grin.

I've done a little research into why he might be getting so many colds and, to be honest, the answer is obvious - his immune system is still being developed. In fact, it is likely that his current cold run will continue for perhaps another six months yet.

This is not great news for him and even worse news for my wardrobe.

Self-service

One of the hardest parts of being a working dad with a young baby is that you inevitably miss out on some "firsts."

For example, today was the first time I had the chance to see Jamie serve himself lunch.

Vanessa started him on baby rice quite some time ago but, whilst he tended to take a bit, he was never that keen.

However, over the last couple of weeks, he's adopted an altogether more positive attitude towards pureed pear and apple and pear cereal and now has both for lunch.

Such is his enthusiasm that, in recent days, he's taken to grabbing the spoon from Vanessa to feed himself.

And today he did the same to me.

A thoroughly entertaining spectacle it is although, as you might imagine, it's also VERY messy.

I'm not a celebrity - but indulge me

Even my harshest critics would have to concede that, over the past three weeks, I’ve been very disciplined in not mentioning “I’m A Celebrity…” even once since my original posting – and it’s not been easy.

However, tonight is the Final so I hope you’ll allow me the luxury of conveying one or two thoughts on the class of 2008.

The title of least likeable “celebrity” surely has to go to plastic-fronted, empty-headed, poison-filled, bottle-blonde glamour model Nicola McLean who eventually got kicked out just a couple of days ago – I can’t believe anyone would vote for such a thoroughly unpleasant individual to stay in so long. The one type of person I dislike most in this life is a bully, and that’s what she was. I hope she’s cast back to obscurity in double quick time.

Then there was ex-housewives’ favourite turned small-minded bigot Robert Kilroy-Silk who I thought would annoy me much more than he did. He looked quite hurt when he discovered he was first to get the boot which, whilst initially pleasing, did make me think he might be human after all. Here’s hoping.

The weirdest person in camp was undoubtedly ex-policeman turned politician Brian Paddick who had no need to wash with his pants off and, as an ex-law enforcer, no need to tell so many lies (bad policeman!) His ego was the biggest in there and, apparently since coming out, he has demanded a minimum of £10,000 to sell his story – which is why no newspaper wants to buy it.

Esther Rantzen was a pleasant surprise - I thought she’d be Janet Steet Porter mark two (and not just because of her teeth) but she was actually quite fun.

And whilst I grew up liking Timmy Mallett (did you know Chris Evans used to be his tea boy?) his a-hooping and a-hollering did get on my nerves by the end and I was glad to see the back of him (even though it did mean Brain Paddick staying in for an extra night).

Carly Zucker, Dani Behr and Simon from Blue were just too dull to comment on which leaves just four.

First tonight’s three finalists. I didn’t think I’d warm to George Takei because, just prior to the show starting, he’d had a big public scrap with William Shatner (not that I read the gossip pages, you understand) and I always regarded Captain Kirk to be on the right side of any argument. But I think I was wrong – I’d now be proud to have George as my gay grandfather.

And Martina Navratilova displayed almost no ego or attitude, despite winning Wimbledon a record 10,000 times. Good for her and I hope she comes second tonight.

But the man who appears destined to win this year’s jungle crown is former EastEnder Joe Swash who I’d never previously heard of (I haven’t watched EastEnders since Lofty left). He seems genuine, down-to-earth and desperate for a break and I hope that’s what he gets tonight.

However, whilst Joe Swash looks likely to walk away with the spoils, to me the real King of the Jungle 2008 is ex-Dollar frontman David Van Day (pictured). Although it took a while to work out what made him tick, it eventually became clear that his only real motivation was to avoid becoming too bored. Thankfully his antics stopped us loyal viewers suffering the same fate. Bless the man and don’t forget to look out for him performing “Biff, Baff, Boff” in a small venue near you very soon – it’s inevitable.

So that’s what I think of this year’s “I’m a Celebrity” line-up.

And if you “hate that programme” or don’t watch it (and in my experience it tends to be people who don’t watch it who claim to “hate it”) then why have you read this far?!

Let it snow

If you live in North or West Yorkshire, you'll obviously be well aware that it's snowed a lot in these parts in recent days and been very cold.

And if you don't, now you know.

When the weather is like this, it's clearly a must that all little boys should have a big, warm coat to climb into.

But please don't be worried about Jamie in this regard.

As you can see he's well covered - almost totally covered in fact.

It's Rhythm Time

Jamie's had a bit of a shock.

After last week, when he was subjected to a bus load of mums and screaming babies raiding his home, today he suffered a potentially even more damaging emotional experience: Vanessa took him to his first music class - Rhythm Time.

So, what is Rhythm Time, I hear you cry?

Well, here's how the organisers describe it on their website -

"Developing confidence, creativity and coordination should start from an early age and the age range for Rhythm Time baby classes is from birth to 15 months.

Music is fundamental to every baby's development and our baby classes are designed specifically to help this process.

Babies and young children really enjoy being part of a group and mixing with others is essential to a baby's growth and development. When mother and baby are together in the class it helps with bonding and the group environment enhances the experience for the parents!

The content of our classes for babies up to 15 months is as follows:
Singing - to help language development. All children sing before they learn to talk
Dancing - to help eye tracking, balance and spatial awareness
Exercise - to help with muscle development and to gain more control over movement
Massage - to help with bonding, relaxation and circulation
Exploration - to help with hand eye coordination, develop small motor skills and to encourage speech development
Social - to help parents and children create new friendships."

So now you know.

With regard to what happened today, I must stress that what I'm about to tell you has been forced out of Vanessa herself and is therefore undoubtedly watered down and much less weird than what actually took place - but here's what I know.

There were nine mums present in all, together with their nine sprogs. And then there was The Leader, resplendent in her bright orange tee shirt.

The group began with a song which included lines such as, "let's say hello to all our friends," and, "hello to Jamie, he is new." Good start.

Then a pink sheet was produced and held by all the mums whilst the babies sat or lay in the middle. The babies were then covered en masse by this piece of material, whilst the mums sang with mocked surprise, "where have all the babies gone?"

Those babies who could crawl out then did so whilst the others lay helpless on their backs like beetles until the mums lifted the sheet and, guess what? They were still there!!! Brilliant.

Next, all babies safely back in their mothers' arms, everyone got into a circle and sang "Let It Snow," whilst The Leader walked around the group blowing bubbles from a plastic container.

Then, as a finale, the babies split into two groups. The first group got into the middle and were given a drum each; the rest were handed a selection of percussion instruments including a tambourine, a triangle and - Jamie's choice - a symbol. Each group was then invited to play their drums or instruments in support of Shakin' Stevens popular hit, "Merry Christmas Everyone," which was blaring in the background. The groups then swapped roles with the drum section becoming the mixed percussion section and vice versa.

Then everyone put their hats and coats on and went home.

Today's session was a free trial so Jamie could decide if he liked it and The Leader could decide if she liked him. I think Jamie was too traumatised afterwards to offer a proper opinion but she was apparently happy with him so, by default, our boy is now booked in to attend 12 more weeks of Rhythm Time starting in January.

And if you think for even a second that I'm going to miss the opportunity to personally accompany him to at least one of these sessions, then you clearly don't know me at all. I genuinely don't think I've looked forward to anything as much in my life. I only hope I can hold myself together for long enough to avoid Jamie getting barred.

Aarrgh, Jim lad!

Jamie went to his cousin Holly's fifth birthday party this afternoon.

And what does every self-respecting little boy need to go a birthday party? Yes, you've guessed it - a party outfit.

Thankfully Auntie Kirsty and Uncle Tom kindly gave Jamie his very own pirate outfit when they came for lunch on Sunday, which was just the job.

After a run of bad PR for pirates in recent weeks, hopefully Jamie's efforts will help to restore their good name.

Larging it

The long-planned Sunday lunchtime get together with our friends (from left to right) Tom, Kirsty and Emily along with her lovely six-month-old son Joshua was very pleasant yesterday, although there was a "large" shock in store for Vanessa and I.

On the menu was salmon chowder to start and chocolate orange mousse to finish (Vanessa's work), with roast beef in the middle (my bit). And all seemed pleased. I was particularly "pleased" by the end as Tom and I finished off the fourth bottle of red wine.

However, back to the "large" shock. To cut to the chase, alongside Joshua, Jamie looked absolutely enormous. Massive, actually.

Yes, Joshua is one of those more dainty of little boys - very fine features and light of build. But the fact remains, he's certainly not underweight and he's also a month older than Master White.

And, to be fair to Jamie, although he's undoubtedly carrying a stray pound or two, I genuinely don't think it's much more than that.

So, only one conclusion can therefore be drawn: we're living with a real life giant.

I'll drink to that

Vanessa and I went to Coldplay in Sheffield last night and, I have to say, it was probably the best live gig I've ever witnessed. Sometimes you'll pay a small fortune to see one of the bigger bands, they stroll on stage, entertain you adequately for an hour and a half and then walk off in a matter-of-fact type way, ready for the next one - Oasis and REM are two groups that come to mind from previous experience.

And then, on rarer occasions, you go along to see a band who give the impression that they know you've paid a load of money to see them, you've looked forward to it for ages and you've made a lot of effort to get there.

Coldplay very much fitted into the latter category last night.

They played every song you'd want to hear, the lights and special effects were fabulous and, most of all, they gave it everything. Absolutely sensational.

And the good news is, I've managed to get hold of two tickets for their big open air concert in Manchester next September - meaning Vanessa and I can do it all again!

The highlight for me was their summer hit Vida la Vida which, as luck would have it, was number one on the day Jamie was born. This is pretty "cool" in my book - and a much "cooler" song than American Pie by Don McLean which was top of the charts on the day I made my appearance (you're obviously entitled to disagree).

A close second, in the highlights stakes, was the chance to drink beer from a two-pint plastic container - which I've kept and photographed for your pleasure alongside a Guinness pint glass, so you too can enjoy its sheer enormity. Excellent.

Meanwhile, Jamie was very good at Grandma Judy and Grandad Mike's. This is positive news on several fronts, including the fact that it strengthens our hand when we want to go out again - everyone's a winner!

It's now time to put the meat on for Sunday lunch - our guests arrive in 37 minutes...

Who's your Father (Christmas)?

As billed, we took Jamie to meet the world's worst Santa today. Or, at least, I fully expected him to be the world's worst Santa.

The venue was Rawdon where Grandad Geoff was involved in organising a gathering to raise money for the local church where he was once a warden.

It was due to start at 11.30am but, when we arrived some 15 minutes late, the hall was already packed out.

There were second-hand stalls, cake stalls, food stalls - you name it.

And, at the far end of the room as you walked in, there he was. The biggest idiot on the planet, the most irritating man alive, the only human being I know with the power and ability to give you an instant itch.

Yes, it was my brother-in-law Dagenham Dave - dressed as Father Christmas. And, boy was he in his element.

Think about it, there he was surrounded by lots of little people with the same mental age as him. His task was to talk at them in that stupid, annoying Southern accent of his for as long as he wanted. And, because they had the same mental age as him, they lapped it up.

But, you know, I'm nothing if not charitable and, being so charitable and giving (and because it will soon be Christmas), I'm going to have to admit it: he was fantastic.

Daggers sat there in his big warm suit, surrounded by (his own) hot air for well over and hour. He spoke to every kid and every parent and he showed the same level of enthusiasm to the first child as he did the last.

With the queue finally getting shorter, I joined the line and, after a short wait, fed Jamie to the lion (or handed Jamie to Santa - depends what way you look at it).

Jamie looked a bit bemused by the whole thing but contented nonetheless. And, like most babies, seemed more intrigued by Father Christmas's beard than by anything else.

And, just before Santa handed him back, my son did his daddy proud - he gave Dave's beard a big tug. Sometimes I really love that boy.

Father Christmas then continued to smile and talk rubbish to the final three or four children behind us as we prepared to take Jamie home for lunch.

As I say, fair play to old Daggers. But don't expect me to be nice to him when he comes to ours on Christmas Day. (He's bound to break something, for a start).

Preparing to give Santa the bird

I'm wrecked again.

I went to see my particularly disinterested doctor yesterday who, after I told her I thought I had sinusitis, didn't bother to examine me, signed a prescription and sent me on my way. A great credit to her profession, I'm sure you'll agree. (There again, it was quite late in the afternoon and she probably had a private patient waiting).

Anyway, I live on which is surely the main thing. And, indeed, I'm glad about that as an usually fun weekend lies ahead.

I don't intend to be mean in saying that. It's just that, since the onset of fatherhood, it's not always easy to get out at weekends, which is fair enough. I was never much of a nightclub person anyway, mainly because - being an Ulsterman - I can't dance.

However, tomorrow night, I might have to have a go as Vanessa and I are off to see Coldplay.

Then, after a night at Grandma Judy and Grandad Mike's (both of whom can actually dance) where Jamie will be parked from 7pm, we're back home to host some good friends for lunch.

But before all of that - tomorrow lunchtime - we're taking our boy to see Santa for the very first time. And not just any Santa, hell no. We're taking him to see the most annoying, irritating and, frankly, awful Santa one could ever dread to encounter.

More on all of this in the next couple of days.

Meanwhile, Jamie has developed a habit of spotting his food and opening his mouth long before it ever reaches his throat.

Does it remind you of anything?

Is he having a laugh?

Another very short piece of video I hoped you might enjoy.

I was getting Jamie ready for bed on Tuesday evening and he was a little too quiet for my liking.

I therefore thought it might be fun to liven up proceedings. And, you know, boys will be boys...

If only he had teeth

There comes a day in the lives of most modern parents when they take their new sprog to get a nice picture taken. And, in the case of the Whites, today was that day.

As you might imagine, it was quite fun.

Jamie wasn't in the greatest of moods but, in typical showbiz style, he did what he had to do when the camera was pointing in his direction.

I'll show you some of the results in the days ahead but, in the meantime, I hope the above "behind the scenes" snap gives you a flavour of what's ahead.

PBR Special: Six of the best

You may have noticed that I quite enjoy my lookalikes.

So, in the wake of yesterday's controversial Pre-Budget Report, here are three pairs of identical twins themed around the event.

At the top - from left to right - we've got Chancellor of the Exchequer Alistair Darling alongside his brother, Sam the Eagle from the Muppets.

In the middle we see Bank of England Governor Mervyn King alongside his Doppelganger, Clarence, the shortsighted removal man (aka Ronnie Barker).

And, at the bottom, we have Liberal Democrat Treasury Spokesman Vince Cable with his very own spitting image, Yoda of Star Wars fame.

I really do spoil you.