Save for a couple of minor stirrings during the night, White Jnr slept through until 6am this morning before quickly making clear that a return to Nod was not on his agenda - so White Snr had to get up. (To be fair, Vanessa did the early shift yesterday so I'm not trying to paint myself as a hero. Not really).
Recent experience has taught us there's no longer any real point in hoping he'll go back to sleep at this time of the day, so better to accept the inevitability of the situation and turn it into a positive. And this morning I did.
After giving him his milk, I changed his nappy, he immediately pooed in it (which clearly delighted me) so I changed it again and dressed him before throwing some clothes on myself. A bit of early morning TV watching and a mug of tea later and with the clock not long struck 7.30am, the two of us were trundling up the road (more accurately, Jamie was trundling and I was pushing) to get the Sunday papers and then on to the park for a go on the swings (with me again in the role of pusher). We were back by 8.45am so Jamie could have his Weetabix - not that he was particularly grateful, judging by the racket.
The rest of the day promises to be equally busy for both of us. I'm off to meet my old school pal Major David Sherrard (he's got a big gun and everything) and his family at Headingley to watch the Leeds Carnegie rugby union team almost certainly clinch promotion to the Guinness Premiership. Meanwhile, Vanessa's taking Jamie to Grandma Judy's where he intends to hold court in front of up to 20 relatives. I will join them after the rugby, by which time Dagenham Dave will hopefully have gone home.
Before I go and dig out my Leeds Carnegie shirt (when in Rome etc etc), a quick comment on the big news story of the day - the resignation of Gordon Brown's Poisoner-in-Chief, Damian McBride (feel free to stop reading if you're not remotely interested).
I worked in the House of Commons for six years and am as aware as anyone just how far removed from reality the Westminster village is. In some ways that is a good thing. I had some of the best experiences of my life down there. I met people I could only ever have dreamt of meeting and I saw a number of historic events at very close quarters. I was one of the lucky ones.
But that square mile in south-west London is also home to a significant number of hangers-on, parasites, muck-spreaders, trouble-makers and drunkards who have no interest in improving people's lives or making a positive contribution to our democracy. Damian McBride and his sidekick Derek "Dolly" Draper - the recipient of the e-mails we've all been reading about this morning - are indisputably in this category as, sadly, are several others close to Gordon Brown, one of the most "tribal" politicians to have held the office of British Prime Minister. It's at times like this when I realise I no longer miss my former life.
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