Strange things were afoot in the Bland household on Friday morning. Olivia defied her ususal habit of not stirring until about 8.00am by waking at around 4 in morning, and was restless until we finally had no option but to abandon our hopes of one last holiday lie-in and get up with her at about 7:00am. Something was clearly troubling her, but what? She is clearly attuned to shifts in mood in the house, so perhaps she sensed a certain fidgettiness in her Dad as it dawned on him how little of the holiday was left, and how little of the work he'd brought home to do in it, he'd actually bothered to.

Perhaps the uneasy vibes were being tansmitted from her Mummy, nervous at the prospect of abandoning her for the first time for a night out. Not that she was being abandoned to the wolves or anything, just the care of her Grandma. Perhaps she was worried about whether Henrik Larsson has long enough time to make any real impact in the United side. But worried she clearly was.

Indeed the nervous energy surging through her body would soon prove even more traumatic. Going down stairs I depossited Olivia on her play mat,before heading into the kitchen to heat her milk. Returning to the front room I found Olivia had turned herself onto her front, where she was busy paddling away, apparently unphased by her new found mobility. She's wheebled and wobbled before, but never actually fell down, so this was a memorable first, necessitating me hurrying up stairs to rouse Cath from sleep. At first she was a little upset that I'd stole these precious few moments of sleep from her, but on seeing Olivia stranded on her belly, kicking for all she's worth, she quickly got over it.