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Saturday 6th December 2003

My friend Rebecca came over with her three month old son Freddy. You may remember me writing about them back in the Summer, when Rebecca was singing at a gig and I wondered what the experience must have been like for her unborn child. Unfortunately Freddy is currently too stupid to be able to talk and so couldn't fill me in on the experience from his point of view. I fear by the time he has acquired the power of speech and a sufficient vocabulary he may have forgotten the incident entirely.
It didn't seem to have affected him too much. He seemed to sleep, cry and mess himself as much as any baby that hasn't had a singer for a mother.
Though later on I did sit him on my knee and sing about that strange and mad old woman who ate a fly and he gave me a big smile.
Though he might have just been laughing at how rubbish I am at singing compared with what he gets at home.
I was going out for a drink and they had to go home, but I foolishly promised to take Freddy to the pub in 18 years time so he could see what all the fuss was about.
What was I thinking?
If he's there then the young Ellis-Bextor-Jones will probably fancy him instead of me, then they'll get together and it'll be another twenty years (plus another barrel to the surname) before I get a look in. And a 78 year old man marrying a 20 year old girl? No, that's approaching being a bit improper.
I definitely couldn't wait for another generation beyond that one.
I don't want people thinking I'm sick or strange or anything.

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