Bouncing back to contentment

Several people told me before Jamie was born that there would be times when we'd try almost anything to shut him up......er......stop him crying......er......make him happy.

And, of course, we've now had countless opportunities to do just this. Some have worked, some haven't.

I mentioned earlier in the week that Granny White had bought Jamie a special departing gift which we thought would come in very useful. Well, I'm delighted to confirm that our hunch was correct.

I can now exclusively reveal that the mystery item is a baby bouncer and it is fantastic. It belts out tunes, it makes nature noises, it even allows baby to hear fishy sounds without getting wet.

Added to this is the fact that it can vibrate in two different ways - continuously or like a heartbeat - and to a strength of your choosing. Simply magnificent.

What's more, as tonight's initial trial proved, it shuts Jamie up. Sorry, did it again - MAKES HIM HAPPY.

Above you can see two pictures. The one on the left was taken just before we switched on the baby bouncer, the one the right was taken after we'd fired it up.

Let's just say that Mummy and Daddy regard this new piece of equipment as an extremely welcome addition to their armoury.

Dotty about Jamie

I'm not long back from a five mile run but I can't be any more tired than Jamie who's worn out simply by all the attention he's been receiving today.

First thing morning he was off to get weighed and, to everyone's delight, he tipped the scales at a very healthy 10 pounds and 5 ounces. Spot on.

Then it was round to see Grandma Judy, Grandad Mike and a cast of many others gathered together in Horsforth, before hot footing it across to Cottingley to meet Auntie Dot (pictured above), Uncle Malcolm, Auntie Rachel, Molly, Tom and Olivia for the very first time

Dot, Malcolm, and Rachel are committed readers of this rubbish and I love them for it. I also think they're mad - bless them for that too.

Thanks to all the excitement - and Rachel's very kind purchase of special gripe water for Jamie - we're now hopeful of baby, Mummy and Daddy all getting a good night's sleep. Only hopeful, mind.

And now for something completely different

A nice little break from the old routine today as I attended my third annual 364 Club Lunch at Headingley Cricket Ground.

Held in honour of the late, great Yorkshire and England batman Sir Len Hutton and his legendary innings of 364 which remains the highest ever score by an Englishman in Test cricket, the guest list is pretty much a who's who of Yorkshire cricket and a privilege for someone like me to be part of.

So why was I, I hear you cry?

To cut a long story short, almost three years ago I was deputising for someone much more important than myself at a book launch and was queuing up to get several copies signed by the now also late but equally great Fred Trueman.

Behind me was a distinguished looking gentleman by the name of Colin Slater who I soon discovered was the voice of sport on BBC Radio Nottingham and has been for more than 50 years.

Hearing my accent, he was curious as to my interest in Fred Trueman and cricket in general. Explaining that I was only there as a poor substitute for someone else, I went on to emphasise that I was also a huge cricket fan in my own right and a fully paid-up Yorkshire member.

In an act of supreme kindness, he mentioned the 364 Club Lunch and suggested that I come along the following year as his guest. Several months later he was back in touch and soon we were sitting together at the event which featured Trueman's ex-Yorkshire teammate Mike Cowan as the speaker.

Last year, along with me, he brought John Kettley (Is a Weatherman) to hear Roy Hattersley make the main speech.

Today, with Mr Kettley on holiday (he sent me an e-mail to say how sorry he was he couldn't be there - I loved that!) it was just the two of us (plus 200 plus others) to see ex-MCC Chief Executive and current Surrey Chairman Roger Knight followed by Dom Antony Such, a Benedictine Monk fond of a drink and a flutter. Mr Knight was good, Father Such - dressed in his habit - was magnificent.

On the other side of me from Colin was the Reverend Max Wigley, Chaplain of Yorkshire County Cricket Club. And, yes, I did watch my language.

Before proceedings began, I ran into Colin's friend and mine, ex-umpire Dickie Bird; Colin has known Dickie for years and, until recently, I was a Trustee of the Dickie Bird Foundation.

So, all in all, a quite bizarre few hours but great fun.

But now back to the present - it's time for Jamie's bath.

Granny White goes home with Jamie's thanks

As I write, my mum's currently sitting at Leeds Bradford Airport waiting for her delayed flight back to Belfast. Thankfully it should only be 40 minutes late in taking off - at the moment.

She's only been here four days but she'll certainly be missed, especially by her new grandson.

Everyone has been wanting to hold Jamie since he came along but no-one more than her. Almost every time we've changed and fed him, we've simply deposited him back in her arms and prepared for another three hours plus off duty.

This has been particularly welcome first thing in the morning when, after his 6.30 feed, we've simply taken him into my mum's room and returned to bed until around 10. Absolute luxury.

Shortly before she left today, we picked her up a webcam with the plan of setting up some regular video chats with the three of us on Skype.

She also bought (yet another) gift for Jamie which looks brilliant and exactly what we needed. More of that later in the week.

The only downside of today was being told by the staff at the Stone Trough pub near the airport that we had to sit outside to eat as under 14s weren't welcome through their door. It's a door I'll not be crossing again in the future, you can be sure of that (and no, I didn't swear!)

And then it was back to the car - Jamie in his special seat - to prepare to wave Granny White off.

Jamie hopes she'll come back soon.

The Major drops in for tea

Jamie's special guest did make it over to see him last night, my long time friend Major David Sherrard of the Royal Artillery.

Dave and I have been friends for 25 years. We went to school together, played rugby together, attended each other's stag dos and weddings and Dave was even misguided enough to ask me to be godfather to his now eight-year-old son Huw. Following Jamie's arrival, I've promised to be better at that in the years ahead.

From Portrush, Dave is not long back from a seven month tour of Afghanistan dodging Taliban bullets and instructing his men to fire back at the buggers with double the venom (and accuracy).

Previous to that, he served in Iraq during the last Gulf War where he worked with the Americans in search of that nice Mr Saddam Hussein. He really should learn to keep better company.

Now based in Germany, he was on his way down to London from an engagement in Sunderland earlier in the day and wanted to pop in to say hello.

The good news is he's shortly about to start a new posting in North Yorkshire which will allow us to see a lot more of him, his gorgeous and very patient wife Hayley, Huw and their other little boy Niall.

Dave and Hayley are also due to join us for our annual Hallowe'en fancy dress party at the beginning of November.

Above you can see what we looked like at a school disco party in Scotland a couple of years ago. I would imagine our costumes will be a touch more ambitious in a few months' time. Mine might even be a little less camp, although I can't guarantee it.

This little Jamie went to market

Weather forecasters proven wrong yet again (the sun was cracking the kerbstones rather than the thunderous rain cracking our windows), Granny White, Mummy, Daddy and Jamie headed off to Otley just before lunch and a fine day was had by all.

First stop was Otley Market where everyone bought a load of things they didn't need other than Jamie who really, really didn't need anything.

Then it was a pause for Yorkshire fish and chips, except for Jamie who just fancied a drop of milk.

A long walk along the river was the next port of call where the swans seemed to be having a whale of a time showing off to the tourists - until they saw Jamie coming. Clearly aware of our son's increasingly noisy reputation, they attempted to hide from him. Personally I thought they were just being rude.

And finally, it was off for an adult ice cream whilst Jamie took the opportunity for a quick nap.

He's preparing for his bath now as we're expecting a very special guest to join us this evening.

More on this tomorrow, if he turns up.

Making the best of a very sad day

My mum made it over today as planned. Unfortunately my sister Jacquie didn't after her father-in-law, Ted Reid, tragically died overnight.

Ted was a terrific and very talented man who should have had many more years ahead of him. He'll be greatly missed by his family and friends.

In an attempt to make something out of a horrible situation, my mum, Vanessa, Jamie and I retired to the garden for - can you guess? - another barbecue.

Whilst there, Granny White had her first opportunity to feed her grandson and I think he enjoyed the experience.

Jamie will be delighted to know she's prepared to repeat her kindness as often as he wants in the days ahead.

Sleep would be nice

Only me.

A truncated night's sleep last night (can you guess why?) has left me feeling even more wrecked today than I was yesterday.

Just back from a full day's work, the obvious remedy is to lie down and close my eyes. But having foolishly signed up to run the Leeds Half Marathon in just over six weeks and seriously under-trained since Jamie arrived on the scene, I now have to go for a four mile run. After that, I need to cut the grass and carry out several other chores in advance of our next guests' arrival, namely my mum and big (yet tiny - ironic or what?) sister Jacquie.

But it'll be great to see them (although Jacquie's hard to spot). Equally exciting is the fact they've kindly offered to take over some Jamie duties to allow Vanessa and me to catch some zeds.

It certainly won't all be sleep, though, and quite right too. As well as yet another barbecue on Sunday (Jamie has insisted), we'll try and think of a few Yorkshire type things to do to ensure both ladies go home with no option but to tell people how nice we are.

They'll probably want to say something about Jamie too, but that's up to them.

Marking his territory

I'm wrecked. And my bum hurts. But thankfully, both problems can be quickly and easily explained.

The rear ache is the result of walking up and down countless hills yesterday morning searching for my lost golf balls; the breakdown of almost all my vital bodily functions is a legacy of downing the best part of two bottles of wine last night at the Bye Bye Barbecue for my dad and John who departed first thing this morning.

Before the evening ended, Granda' White formally unveiled the nameplate on Jamie's nursery door. Grandma Judy and Grandad Mike joined us for what I'm sure you'll appreciate was another thrilling occasion for all concerned, almost on a par with last week's official opening of Jamie's curtain.

The only disappointing aspect of the event was that Jamie didn't turn up. Having shouted the place down for the previous 45 minutes before finally going to sleep, we decided to leave him under his blanket. Still, it was a nice surprise for him this morning, prompting a Gwyneth Paltrow type moment where he cried uncontrollably. Or perhaps that was because I wasn't holding his head properly. Or because he'd pooed himself - sometimes it's just so difficult to tell.

Vanessa and I now have a couple of nights to put the house back together again before our next long weekend guests arrive. More of that tomorrow.

Jamie goes down't pub

It was sort of inevitable and I can't believe it took us four weeks to get him there, but Jamie had his first drink in a pub this afternoon.

Earlier, John and I thrashed golf balls around for a few hours whilst my dad trimmed our hedge (he enjoys that sort of thing and he's good at it, alright?!) before we hooked up with him, Vanessa and Golden Child for lunch at the Bankhouse in Pudsey.

Whilst Vanessa stuck to shandy and John, my dad and I had pints, Jamie had three and a half fluid ounces of Mum's Brew.

It was transferred from barrel to bottle first thing this morning and is a strange concoction, cream in colour and apparently very nutritional.

He's drinking gallons of it at the moment but it tends to make him fall asleep in company before wetting himself.

Hopefully he'll lose these habits when in pubs in later life.

Sadly, I know quite a few people who haven't.

They think it's all over...and it IS! (thank goodness)

I hate to be negative but I'm glad the cricket is now at an end, South Africa having just beaten England an hour ago by ten wickets.

I've looked forward to the game for months but, in the end, it was more than a little disappointing and England's defeat has been inevitable for two days.

The bonus of it ending now is that there's a free day for all three of the Whites to do something with my dad and John and plans are currently being hatched.

The other good news is that our camera appears to have had a Lazarus moment so I can keep the crap pictures coming (plus ones of Jamie, of course).

Above is the pic of the Amy Winehouses I mentioned last night. Aren't they lovely?!

And, on the right, is a shot of a chicken who managed to make his way into the executive part of the ground - as they do. Finally, below is my pic of Freddie Flintoff in full flight. I know it's not very sharp but you can tell it's him so I feel a bit smug.

Back in Jamieland, you'll obviously be fascinated to hear that he peed up his back again during the night. That boy really has talent.

He's also been good to and with our guests. Let's hope he keeps up his high standards for one more day - especially when he finds out he's going to his first pub.

It's all going wrong

Several times over the last two days I've been reminded of when Vanessa gave birth to Jamie, just under four weeks ago now.

There were moments over the many hours from the point we reached the hospital to the stage when the little man eventually emerged that I honestly thought we would never get to the "good bit."

That is exactly how I've felt at Headingley both yesterday and today where my dad, mate John and I were forced to bear two of the dullest days of Test cricket I can remember.

England were awful, South Africa were turgid and I was bored.

BORED! BORED! BORED! BORED! BORED!

Even the fancy dress wasn't as good this year although the Amy Winehouses at least brightened up our Saturday. And, admittedly, the chicken we saw today was also quite fun. Unfortunately I can't show you the pictures as the camera appears to have croaked it too. Marvellous.

The game should end tomorrow when England finally fold.

I'll tell you more then, by which time I'll probably have cheered up and possibly even have bought a new camera.

In the meantime, I give you an early pic of Jamie to hopefully keep you interested.

Laters...

We're wide awake

Up and at it early again this morning after Jamie peed up his back - how do babies do that?!

But the ordeal did not end there. Maybe it's a deficiency in my technique (almost certainly I'd say) but he then managed to poo in three clean nappies before I got the fourth and final one on. Obviously I was thrilled, as was Jamie.

Previous to this I'd given him the equivalent of a bed bath on the changing mat. Then, with nappy on, he had a baby massage with oil (what a modern kinda dad I am) before Vanessa and I took turns to cuddle him in bed. The picture above shows you the effect, which lasted all of three and a half minutes.

Indeed, it was almost as if the four nappy incident hadn't happened (yes, FOUR ****ING NAPPIES!!!........now....c...a...l...m....)

Our guests seemed to enjoy themselves last night with Jamie generally on form and Granda' clearly impressed by the latest addition to the clan.

We set off for Headingley again in an hour.

A cute way to start

An excellent first day at the Test which saw the return of Freddie Flintoff, Kevin Pietersen top scoring for England (do you like my picture below?!), 13 wickets falling and no shortage of dirty South African gamemanship.

The day began with Jamie having his photo taken with "the boys" in our back garden. And, although he's currently too little to go to the cricket himself, he insisted on wearing his whites which, I hope you agree, was a rather cute call.

Vanessa will get her first night of rest since the birth tonight as I'm about to go on feeding duty - after I've cooked tea for us all (aaaghh!!!)

I'm the daddy

A bit of an earlier pit stop than usual this morning - I've already changed Jamie's tyre and Vanessa's now filling his tank.

Given that I'm up, I thought I might show you a little snapshot of officialdom in the form of Jamie's birth certificate.

Vanessa went to register him on Tuesday and the result, I thought, was quite interesting.

First, and most importantly, it does confirm that I am indeed the father which, you know, is sort of nice to see in writing.

It also appears to show that my wife couldn't remember whereabouts in Northern Ireland I was born (Belfast, for the record).

However, the upside in terms of getting her back is that the document highlights that Vanessa was born in Norwich.

I've never been there but, by almost all accounts, Norwich is a bit shit.

Perhaps the sort of place where a mother might not necessarily know where the father of her child comes from?

The evidence I provide would certainly suggest so.

Stitch that

Been a busy bee tonight and it now feels a bit like the calm before the storm with my dad and friend John due to arrive around this time tomorrow for the cricket.

In addition to fixing the kitchen table, doing the garden, going for a run and banging three nails into various bits of Jamie's room with my new hammer, I then knocked another two into his wall (bringing the total number of nails used to a round five, I think you'll find) to mount a beautiful, personalised tapestry above his cot.

Created lovingly by Vanessa's mum Grandma Judy, it's a great credit to her and something I hope he'll treasure for ever.

Equally, I hope the two nails holding it up do their job so it doesn't fall on Jamie's head and get me in trouble (or hurt him - obviously).

Official engagement

Big moment tonight - Jamie officially opened his new curtain.

Made by Granny White and put up by Grandad Mike (because Daddy isn't very good at these things and even Mummy agrees), the ceremony went well.

All the guests turned up on time - Grandad Mike, Grandma Judy, Mummy and Daddy - and the weather held.

It's true to say that some in the audience were a little concerned the whole occasion might prove a little too much for Jamie, given its enormity.

But, in the end, he held his nerve and resisted the temptation to shed tears. Definitely the Ulsterman in him.

And he'll have to get used to such formalities; the name plate for his door is due to arrive in a couple of days and he'll have to go through the whole thing again with an entirely new congregation (other than Mummy and Daddy who've already invited themselves).

Still, surely anything Prince Edward can do, absolutely anyone else can do too. Anyone at all.

He got me good

Something new happened last night, something I'll not forget for a very long time. Let me explain.

Vanessa bought a breast pump on Friday, a very handy piece of equipment which allows her to express two feeds worth into bottles each day and stick them in the fridge for later.

This has allowed us to adopt a slightly different routine over the last couple of nights in which she gives Jamie a feed at about 7.30/8 and then I take over, giving him his final change and feed at about 10.30/11.

This worked well on Friday and Saturday but then last night I was a little late in getting my act together as Top Gun was showing on Sky One - you just forget how good that film is.

Anyway, by the time I got to my post at about 11.15, Jamie was beginning to kick off. I'd had my wash and was running around in just a pair of boxer shorts when I thought I'd better do something quick.

So I shoved a bottle of Vanessa's finest into a jug of hot water before flinging Jamie on to the changing mat in preparation for the quickest nappy change in history.

Sitting on the floor with my legs out in front of me, I swiftly whipped off his nappy and turned to my right to grab the cotton wool. Suddenly there was suddenly an almighty noise followed by the shock of something warm running down the inside of my leg.

I couldn't have! How embarrassing!

Well no, I hadn't.

Instead, Jamie had projectile pooed with the greatest possible accuracy - straight up my boxers and all over my, well, you know, "man" bits.

Given that his screaming was getting ever worse, I had to just stick to the plan and finish changing him before quickly retiring to the bathroom to change myself. Very undignified.

Thankfully the bottle feed went well immediately afterwards.

Perhaps I'll start the process a little earlier tonight.

The times they are a-changing (nappies)

There have been times in the past when getting out of bed at 3pm on a Sunday would've been almost normal behaviour for me. How those days have gone.

Up at 7.3o this morning to change Jamie. He pooed on me.

Then, after breakfast (Jamie had milk), Vanessa and I took him for a bath and, to be fair, it was the best one yet. We adopted a slight change of tactic this time by making the water a little warmer than previously. To our delight, he didn't cry at all, providing a lesson that even I spotted.

Next, we had our second boys' trip to the supermarket where, again, he was good. Admittedly, he did cry once but only after I bought him new trainers and then attempted to put them on him on the way home to impress Mummy. The mistake I made was to forget to take the cardboard out first. Again, another lesson learnt.

Then back for lunch and a change of nappy. Well, three changes of nappy. As soon as the first clean one was under him, he pooed on it. And then, once he was wiped down and the second one readied, he somehow managed to pee on it and me at the same time - he does like to mix up his act.

Vanessa's long time friend (and bridesmaid, don't you know) Nicole and her beautiful little daughter Tehya arrived an hour ago to meet Jamie, allowing me to retire to the spare room to write this drivel and start clearing a space for my dad to sleep from Thursday.

After that, who knows? But I don't imagine getting back to the scratcher this afternoon or any future Sunday afternoon for many years to come.

Still, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Enjoying his first Glorious Twelfth

This is a little known fact but, although born in Yorkshire, all of Jamie's vital organs actually come from Northern Ireland.

The doctors have also said that, when he does learn to speak, he will do so in a thick Ulster brogue.

For these reasons it is obviously crucial that he has an early opportunity to be educated in the history, culture and traditions of the fair Province.

And what better time to start than today, the Twelfth of July.

As you're probably aware - and you clearly will be if you come from there - on this day every year (unless it's a Sunday) tens of thousands of Orangemen take to the streets to celebrate the glorious victory of King William III (wahey!) over that nasty King James II (boo!)

These parades received a very bad press during the dark days of the Troubles for which fault could be attributed to many different quarters.

However, with permanent peace in the Province now hopefully secured, the organisers have recently gone on a real drive to turn the day into a colourful spectacle for tourists from across the world, thus benefiting the local economy to the tune of The Sash...er...no, sorry, to the tune of several million pounds.

Judging by the crowds in Belfast this morning, it appears this new approach is working.

Jamie certainly enjoyed the BBC Northern Ireland coverage and is hoping to be allowed to stay up late tonight to see if he can spot Granda' White marching through Coleraine in the "highlights" programme.

Needless to say Mummy's not at all convinced by any of this.