About Me

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By trade I am a journalist with a background in current affairs, culture, health and fitness, travel and high profile interviews. I also own and run an outdoor fitness business aimed at people that hate gyms and bootcamps (www.spartanfitnesslondon.co.uk). Most importantly though, I am on Shared Parental Leave from May 31 to October 3. Everyday from 0730 to 1800 I will be in sole charge of a real and completely awesome baby girl.


Friday, 1 July 2016


I HAVE heard it from more than one source, both experts and the old wife who dishes out all the tales, that children under the age of one (or something) are unable to intentionally drop things.

Science and studies claim that babies, although able to pick things up and grip them, are unable to then release their hold on purpose. It's just a development stage in their biomechanics that they have yet to reach.  

Well, without wishing to be contraire or to claim that I have created a unique being, I have to say that I fundamentally disagree with the claim. I have run a number of meal-time studies with my specimen and I am 100 per cent confident that A-bomb enjoys picking an item of food up, taking it to her mouth, feigning interest then nonchalantly dropping it off the side of her tray, with the sole aim of getting under my skin.

At breakfast time today, which offered both sweet and savoury French Toast with cinammon on the former and Worcester Sauce on the latter, the stinkbomb basically took the piss out of me. There I was, excited as she picked up a piece of the bread and swung it with a flourish towards her gummy cake-hole, only to be knocked off my proud perch as she tossed my culinary efforts on to the scrap heap that is my wooden floor.

M'Lady was in her element. She had my full attention and a pile of delicious food in front of her. Five times she collected a piece of the eggy bread with her lumpy hands before smiling at me, giving me a wink* and then chucking it on the floor, while saying "pick that up you idiot", in her mind.

*she can't wink, that was an exaggeration

After numerous failed attempts at my gourmet, painstakingly-prepared toast, I felt that the Lady hadn't eaten enough so I wheeled out Old Trusty, the banana. Obviously she gobbled that down while laughing heartily. She then returned to the original offering with some decent bites recorded.

Then, quite abruptly M'Lady stopped in her tracks. She placed her hands down in front of her and stopped the manic wriggling of her legs that had been going for a good 30 minutes. Her eyes became fixed on an unknown point directly in front of her and she took a deep breath. She then visibly braced her whole body. I was transfixed, interested in what was about to happen. Perhaps she was going to speak, to say "thank you for my lovely breakfast"...

Then all became clear as an almighty fart ripped out of her backside. I say "fart" because that's what I was hoping for. As it turned out it was more of a solid than a gas and I was occupied for quite some time with the old wet wipes.

After the sensational clay-like evacuation there were no more issues with feeding. All she needed was to make a bit of room. 

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