"Do I need my jacket?" I asked Susanne, who had just come in.

"No," she said. I was on my way out to the shops.

I headed to the bus stop and noticed as I did so some little spots of rain on the pavement.

As I stood at the bus stop, I saw the sky grow dark on the horizon. Heavy black clouds were approaching.

There was a chill in the air as I entered the shop, and a light rain.

I called Susanne from the supermarket about something, and she said, "It's raining".

"I know," I said.

I thought I did. I thought she meant that it was raining. What she meant was that it was raining.

When I stepped outside I saw what she meant. The rain was pouring down heavily, little white crowns flickering on the shining ground as the raindrops hit.

I went inside to read a magazine and wait for the rain to pass. About 20 minutes later I came outside and it was even heavier. I was waiting for a bus just outside the supermarket, and the rain got heavier and heavier and heavier.

I mean, really heavier - suddenly there were hailstones, some as big as walnuts, hammering down. There was something scary about how heavy it was, how dark the air was, how it got heavier and heavier. I began scanning the horizon for signs of an Ark. Instead, the bus arrived, I sprinted to the door and got splashed before I entered.

While we were going down the road, I could see the rain, inches deep in the gutter. The traffic moved slowly.

I had about a hundred metres to run to get home once I had left the bus. I splashed into a puddle that was really deep - it felt like a tiny river. The rain pelted down and pelted down and the raindrops smeared my glasses so I could barely see. I felt like I was running through blackness. I was soaked within seconds, my shoes were leaking, my clothes clung to me. I dashed across the road and by this stage there was no point in evening worrying about the water. I was pretty much as wet as I could get.

I got to the door. I stepped inside and panted for breath - I had not realised how hard I had been running, nor how out of breath I was. I stood, dripping rain onto the doormat for a couple of minutes. Then I was able to change my clothes and dry my hair. Through the window we were able to see the other side of the road turn into a swiftly-flowing brown river. It was a couple of hours, probably, before the rain stopped.

Three cheers for Nena.

Yes, I know you probably remember her, if at all, for singing '99 Red Balloons' back in the eighties, but she's huge in Germany and we bought several CDs of children's lullabies and other songs.

And they work. If they didn't, I wouldn't have had time to write this entry. Just now, our little angel is sleeping soundly on the sofa.

Ok, this is not really another entry. Just an excuse for a different picture.

I've been singing to Caitriona lately. But what to sing? All I can remember is 'Rockabye Baby'. What's all that about, then? Why is the cradle in the treetop? Isn't that dangerous? Have you considered the possibility that when the wind blows, the cradle will rock, and if the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will come cradle, baby, and all?

From a health and safety point of view, that's extremely ill-advised. I wouldn't be at all surprised to hear it's illegal. So why am I singing about it to my daughter?

And then there's the issue of pigs, and what they eat. This little piggy went to market. Fair enough. This little piggy stayed at home. Again, perfectly reasonable, especially if prices are low.

But this little piggy had roast beef. I'm glad to report that this little piggy had none, because the risk of spreading BSE to the pig population is a least a little better.

Personally, I'm with the little piggy who went 'wee, wee, wee' all the way home, myself.

Well, I know it's been a long time but it's really difficult to blog with a baby on one arm.

Yes, I know dooce does it but she's obviously superhuman. My days are about half as long as they used to be. I usually wake about 6am to change the baby and take her into the front room so that Susanne can finally get some sleep. Then she comes in after a couple of hours to feed the baby and I go off and try to get some sleep.

Later I take her back and try to get Caitriona to sleep. If she's not in the mood to sleep, I have to walk around with her on my shoulder until she is. Sometimes that takes ages. When I think she's relaxed enough I try to sit down. Usually she knows immediately and begins to cry. This is especially difficult if I try to sit at the computer because she doesn't want me to use the computer when I could be carrying her round.

Eventually she drifts off to sleep and then I can usually sit down, but only by keeping her lying on my chest while I sit there trying not to make any sudden moves. It's an uncomfortable position for doing anything except watching TV, so I've been improving my German by watching soaps such as Lindenstrasse and Berlin Berlin (which is quite good, actually).

At other times, I take her for a walk in the park. Usually she's fine and the pram seems to calm her down but lately she's been getting a bit cranky and I find myself walking through Dulwich Village with a crying baby, convinced that everybody I pass thinks I'm a cruel parent.

It's not that I spend all my time with the baby you understand, Susanne obviously spends more time than I do. It's just that there's so much less free time than there used to be, and I'm usually too tired to do much in the gaps.

And of course, I wouldn't choose to have it any other way.