On The Dancefloor

Here's another picture from the wedding we were at last weekend. On the left the bride is dancing with her father, on the right the groom is dancing with his new mother-in-law, and in the middle it's me and G. It was well into the evening by this point, so G had swapped her dress for her pyjamas before going to bed.

As you might imagine, I thoroughly enjoyed dancing with my little girl. Presumably I'll do it again one day at her wedding. No doubt she'll be all grown up by then. Hopefully she'll be in a slightly less multi-coloured outfit, too.

Swimmer

Yesterday was the end of G's swimming lessons, and we took her to a pool in Bolton so she could get her photo taken underwater. This was a professional sort of job, so we don't actually get to see these pictures for another couple of weeks. But Mrs J came along and took some other snaps of me and the little one. Not sure which one of us was showing off more though.

Curry And Raspberries

Here's a rarity for this blog, a picture of G with me in it as well. I took her to Leeds today so we could have lunch with a friend, and she suggested a curry, which as you can see went down well with G. It won't be long now until she's on solids, and judging by the way she was eyeing up my plate, that can't come soon enough.

I took G over to Leeds on the train, and on the way she suddenly discovered how to blow raspberries. She seemed to be delighted by the loud noises she was making, and they were accompanied by drooling and the odd big smile. A delay in the journey somewhere near Batley gave the rest of the carriage the opportunity to hear G's new-found ability too. Being a proud dad blind to my own daughter's annoyances, I thought she was being very clever. Not sure the other passengers agreed, but I don't care.

Manchester Blog Awards

I went to the Manchester Blog Awards last night. My other blog The Asparagus was nominated for best political blog two years ago, but they don't have that category anymore. This is either because my blog was just so good it was embarrassing for everyone else, or because there aren't really enough Manchester political blogs to justify it, I'm not really sure which. Anyhow, although I wasn't nominated this time I was looking forward to the event so I could catch up with some other local bloggers, and so I could see inside the newly reopened Band On The Wall where it was taking place.

To make up for going out at night I took G out in her pram during the day so Mrs J could get some power napping in, and also so I could proudly show off a bit. Walking down Tib Street I bumped into Emily, who writes My Shitty Twenties, and was coming out of Rags to Bitches where she'd picked up some glad rags for the ceremony. She leaned over the pram and cooed over the snoozing G. Then, the florist from Northern Flower next door came outside and did the same.

Even though I've met her a few times and know her well enough to say hello when I see her, I really can't remember what the florist's name is. That's if I even knew it in the first place. This meant I couldn't introduce her to Emily, and I quickly became worried that I was being extremely rude to both of them. But although I was concerned about this, I still couldn't quite bring myself to just say straight out that I'd forgotten her name and could she tell me it again. Obviously the social embarrassment of admitting my ignorance slightly outweighs the social embarrassment of quietly hoping the awkwardness will be over soon. So I just stood there, with the Curb Your Enthusiasm music going over in my head. I got away with it, but because I didn't find out her name this time, I'm going to have the same awkward situation next time I run into the florist. Basically I'm just a social coward.

As for the awards, the venue looked great and a good time was had by all. A big thank you to Kate Feld for organising the whole thing. There were some worthy winners, not least Emily who won best personal blog and best writing on a blog. Another excellent site, Lost in Manchester, won the overall prize for blog of the year as well as best city or neighbourhood blog. There's a full list of winners and other nominees, and links to them all, here. I can particularly recommend The Manchester Zedders, Cynical Ben and I Thought I Told You To Wait In The Car.

I left early and spent a few hours with an annoyingly wide awake G. Trying to get her to sleep I even resorted to pushing the pram around the block at almost 1 o'clock in the morning. It was cold, G had the hiccups, and unlike during the day, it didn't have the desired effect. I can now confirm that pushing a baby around the Northern Quarter in the middle of the night is not nearly as much fun as it is during the afternoon.

On The Radio

I was on the radio today talking about G. My friend Sam is covering the lunchtime show on BBC Radio Manchester this week (Andy Crane who usually does the programme is away somewhere, presumably with Edd the Duck), and was doing a phone-in about paternity leave. Apparently lots of new dads are too worried about losing their jobs to even take the two weeks off that they're entitled to. So I talked a bit about deciding to stay at home and suchlike. You can hear it all again here for the next week (I'm on about 21 minutes in).

I took G down to university this afternoon to meet some friends from the MA course I finished last month. They've all begun PhDs so were happy to take the opportunity for a break so they could have a coffee and coo over the little one. I suppose if we hadn't had G, I'd probably be doing the same as them now, spending my days reading journal articles and hanging around the mustier parts of the library. G certainly gave them the impression that my life is easier than theirs, as she snoozed happily the whole time I was there.

I took the picture on the walk back to the flat, as I briefly sheltered from the rain on Sackville Street. It was one of those typically dark and drizzly Manchester days, but G was warm and sleepy under her rain cover. One of my uni friends was impressed by the cocoon-like pram, and reckoned it would be good to have one for adults, complete with a giant person (possibly Brian Blessed) to put you in there and wake you up again later. I think it's brilliant. In fact the only flaw I can see in the plan would be what would happen if the machines rose up and seized power. Being run by an army of 15-foot Brian Blesseds is an alarming thought, to say the least.

Cool As

G had her first trip out of the flat today. And it was the start of our efforts to make her the coolest baby in Manchester. The three of us went round the corner to the Ruby Lounge for Mr and Mrs Boon's tea party, which is a sort of family-friendly gig mixed with afternoon tea run by Clint and Charlie Boon. By the time we got there the queue was already out the door, but having a tiny baby meant we were allowed to go straight in. Who knew it could be such an advantage? Not sure if it'll work in actual nightclubs though.

Clint plays keyboards in Inspiral Carpets and I know him a bit from reading the news on his show on Xfm Manchester. He was one of lots of friends who congratulated us on the little one's arrival, and as you might expect I thoroughly enjoyed showing her off to everyone. Some of them couldn't believe Mrs J was up and about and looking so well after just four days, or that G was sleeping through all the noise and excitement (the place was packed, with loads of kids running around). When the band came on things got a bit loud and we decided not to push our luck and so we made an early exit before she woke up.

G's beautiful behaviour was all a bit of an illusion, because she'd actually worn herself out screaming most of the night. She carried on during the morning, until I turned on the Grand Prix qualifying I'd recorded, whereupon she went straight off to sleep. Even from an early age, girls obviously find motor racing dull.

I Worked 11 Hours And Bought The Girl Some Flowers

Actually, I haven't done any work at all, but after Mrs J put in a tough 18-hour shift the other day I decided to surprise her with some flowers. I popped round the corner to Northern Flower on Tib Street, and there was another new father in there who was doing the same thing. His baby girl is nine days old, and he complained about how she'd only just managed to sleep for four hours at a time. At this point my inner proud dad, bursting to get out, tried to make me say "oh well our little girl is only two days old and she's been asleep for the last five hours straight, so ner" but thankfully polite dad took over and I just nodded and made what I hoped were sympathetic new father-type noises.

When I was paying for the flowers I put my bank card in the machine, then realised I'd forgotten the new PIN number. So I had to pay on the joint card, which means Mrs J will be able to see what I spent on her, and therefore the exact monetary value I put on her marathon effort the other day. Might have to chuck out the statement before she sees it.

The title of this post comes from Up The Junction by Squeeze. There aren't many great songs about having children, but that's definitely one of them. Here they are performing it on Top of the Pops in 1979. You should be warned that the clip features both Dave Lee Travis and Mike Read. There's also Jools Holland pretending to play guitar, which at least means he's not doing boogie-woogie piano.