Job

When I was a kid, I never really understood what my dad's job was. So I'm going to explain what I do for a living.

I am a Traffic Information Officer at Transport for London, which is the public transport agency for London and the highway authority for London's main roads.

I work in the Streets department of TfL. We collect lots of information about traffic incidents and planned works, which we use to try and manage the road network and reduce disruption.

It's my job to make sure the information we collect doesn't only get used by our traffic engineers, but also by satellite navigation companies, app developers, radio broadcasters and so on.

OK, I admit, that wasn't very interesting. Particularly because by the time you read this, I'll be doing something else entirely. Hopefully I'll have fulfilled my dream and be making a living as a writer.

But hey, if you ever want to know about the world of traffic information, I'm your man.

Ritzy

Your mum sometimes takes you to see films at our local cinema, the Ritzy. They put on "Big Scream" screenings where babies are invited.

So far you've been there to see Green Lantern, the last Harry Potter film and Super 8.

Here's a picture of you enjoying yourself in the Ritzy. Maybe you'll be like me and LOVE films. Although probably not if you keep seeing films like Green Lantern.

Stag do

My old schoolfriend Nick got married this year, and he invited me to his stag party on the weekend of 2 April. We went down to Brighton on the Friday, drank lots, dressed Nick up in silly costumes and made him eat chili peppers, and the plan was to go paintballing the next day and do it all over again.

You were due to be born on 11 April - and first babies are usually late anyway. So I thought I was pretty safe going to the stag do.

I woke up on the Saturday morning feeling somewhat worse for wear. Dragged myself down for a hotel breakfast, swapped stories about the previous night, and tried to avoid loud noises.

That's when your mum called to say her waters had broken. I was only too pleased to leave the others to finish the stag celebrations without me!

Your first taste of ice cream

You didn't like it one bit.

Your NCT contemporaries

We attended a pre-natal course with the National Childbirth Trust, and we've become friends with the other parents that attended the same course.


You were the first baby in our little group to be born. We brought you to meet the others when you were a week old, and two of the mothers were so excited by holding you that they went into labour that very night.

You and your mum see them almost every week now. I wonder if you will still be friends with Hermione, Betsy, Leo, Clara and Sydney when you grow up?

Not always happy

You smile a lot.

But sometimes this happens too.

Will you be a chef when you grow up?

Actually, I hope you never really quite grow up. :)

Sweet-talk

For some reason, you're especially vocal when you rub your daddy's face.

Mirror image

The one on the left is you, the one on the right is a picture of your daddy when he was newborn.

Or maybe it's the other way around.

Like father, like daughter.

Ticking like a cartoon bomb

There's a particular gadget that has brought us peace of mind while we're still paranoid that you might just forget to breathe.

The Tommee Tippee sensor mat.

It's a plastic pressure pad that sneaks under your mattress and detects your every movement. Every time you breathe it ticks. The ticking is very reassuring in the middle of the night - we can be sure you're safe without having to get up and check.

Although it does sound a bit like a cartoon bomb.

Blue Eyed Girl

Riots in Brixton (and Tottenham and Hackney and Peckham and Croydon and...)

It's night 3 of the London riots, which seem to be quickly escalating into national riots.

This is a picture of the Games Master up the road from our home, where your mum and I often trade in DVDs. The whole of Brixton high street is in a similar state. Very sad.

May you never be as angry and disaffected as the people who are perpetrating these riots.

And if you are, may you find a more constructive way of expressing it.

And if you can't, may you at least show some respect for people's livelihoods and communities.

And if you don't, may you feel humble, and go out of your way to put things right again.

All of us do stupid things sometimes - let your mistakes be your own rather than the product of submitting to peer pressure or a mob mentality.

My daughter

I call you "my" daughter, but of course that doesn't imply ownership. You are your own person!

You might say that Charlie is "my" father, but that doesn't mean you own me. Just as you might say "my" country - the country doesn't belong to you; it's almost the other way around.

In fact, saying that things are "mine" is often less to do with ownership and more to do with identity. What you (claim to) possess defines who you are.

So, you are only "my" daughter because I am proud to identify myself as a father. Now go and be whoever you want to be.

Baby trivia

Your uncle Dan and I have been trying to teach you some important facts.

I'm repeating over and over, in the hope that you'll remember, that the square of the hypoteneuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides.

(But only for right angled triangles!)

You've also tried to sing along to pi to eight decimal places...

And Dan has been trying to indoctrinate your brain with the 1985 Everton team. They won both the league and the Cup Winners' Cup, don't ya know?

Useless trivia is so much fun!

Secret Garden Party

We took you to a festival!

It was cold sleeping in a tent.

And the music was loud.

But, apart from a few teething problems, you had lots of fun!

You're four months old!

Here's picture of you four months ago: