Whirling dervish arrived for lunch. Wee man headed off for fun in the pool with pals - he's having such a good time at the moment. Loves his freedom but still fond of a few boundaries (though he wouldn't admit to it). Big sis delighted to earn her first babysitting wage and to schlep about with her mum (feeling mutual).

After a brief glimpse of big Al in the pub, me and the other J headed to a party. We like to think we were the life and soul of the dance floor - though there's a chance we looked like prats - but we're nearly old enough not to care. Strike that - we are old enough not to care. I loved it. Why have I not danced for years and years and years? Especially when my dance floor moves are so smooth?