About Me

I was born in Luton, known for hat making, Vauxhall cars, London Luton Airport and a great football team who once beat Arsenal at Wembley in a Cup Final, currently languishing in non-league football for the 4th season. I moved to Edinburgh in 1990 and now live in Leith, Edinburgh's 'waterfront'.

Married for 24 years to Louise (who is on day release from Fife), I have 4 children: Holly (aged 27) who's studying medicine at Dundee University, William (aged 26) at the Army Foundation College, Harrogate, Alice (aged 23) and Maddie (aged 16).

We live in a 226 year old Georgian house which we are slowly renovating. We once had a note from an artist posted through the letterbox asking if our semi-derelict house was available to rent as studio space. Things have improved lately; the stonework has been repaired and we have shiny new railings. Just the inside to do now then.

Current CNPS score: 999


Header Image: Richard Bloomfield

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    Sweet smell of….

    You smell of sick, Dad“, William commented as we left the house the other day. “You wait till you have kids“, I replied. “You’ll be pleased if it’s only sick you smell of“. How do babies do it? They drink 90ml of the white stuff then manage to vomit about a litre back up all over you, or more specifically, your clean clothes which you’ve only had on 20 minutes. I suggested to Louise that she ask the midwife if Maddie could have bulimia.

    Then there’s the poo. I’d forgotten about the poo. It’s a miracle there is any, given that they vomit most of what they eat, but there most certainly is. And they always do it within one minute of putting a clean nappy on them. Then they grin at you. Secret Service interrogators should study babies for a week to learn technique. They’d crack any person in hours.

    Things have been pretty hectic (hence the fact that I’ve not written here for some time). Maddie has been in the hospital: The Royal Edinburgh Hospital for Sick Children to be precise. Bottom trouble. I won’t describe it in too much detail to preserve her dignity. She had blood in her nappies and they needed to find out what was causing it but it turned out to be not too serious. I started to crack a few ‘bottom’ jokes but I was quickly told to ‘shut up Dad, that’s just not funny’ by Alice. I was quite taken aback that a 7 year old would stick up for her wee sister like that. So no bottom jokes, OK.