I always used to make fun of parents who describe their babies as, say, the world's cutest baby. I mean, there are over 50,000 babies born each day in China alone. Unless you've seen all of them, or at least a representative sample - say 5-6,000 - you are in no position to comment. You simply don't have the information on which to make a judgement.

Of course, that doesn't mean that the world's cutest baby does not exist. Clearly, some babies are cuter than others, and that implies at least the theoretical existence of one who is cutest.

Well, I can now officially reveal that the world's cutest baby has been identified.

And in an astounding statistical quirk, we actually know her. It turns out to be our daughter Caitriona. What's the chances of that happening, eh?

I know that, given my earlier comments, you might have some doubts. I've not actually been to China, clipboard in hand, to see for myself.

But I have discovered that there is another method that can be used. I had a look at the picture above and suddenly realised that the question was closed. I thought, "Is it possible for a baby to be cuter than this? Is greater cuteness even theoretically possible?"

And the answer, amazingly, was no. So there you have it. It's official.

I am planning to keep pretty quiet about this. There are other parents out there and I don't want to disappoint them. Poor things.

The New Oxford Dictionary of National Biography has been launched this week. I take a personal interest in this, because I am one of the contributors.

That's not as impressive as it sounds (You are impressed, aren't you? Just a little bit? Just a tiny bit? Well, can you please at least pretend to be impressed?) because there are 55,000 entries by over 10,000 people, and I am responsible for just one entry.

I actually got paid £50 for this about three years ago (nobody writes in the NDB for the money). If I had written a hundred entries, I would have enough to buy a full set of the books.

(I know it says a set costs £7,500 but I would get a big discount. I would actually need a 99.9% discount to be able to afford one)

Things I have discovered in the last two weeks:

The UK has an Older People's Czar. Probably like the normal czar, but the pogroms take a bit longer.

The body responsible for supervising plastic surgeons in the UK (including all those breast enlargement operations) is BAPS. (They're not even trying to be taken seriously, are they?)

Google is a very bad search engine if you are looking for information about the band The The.

Well, if you've been holding your breath since yesterday's entry, I am happy to say that I can now hear again.

I can hear the guy at the next desk talking. I can hear people on the other side of the room talking. I think I just heard someone on the sixth floor clearing his throat.

I suddenly realise how noisy this place is.

I mean London in general, not just this place.

Then again, even pleasant places outside the city can be very noisy - the sea crashing on the rocks at the seaside, the wind howling through the trees in the country.

Oh well. If it's not one thing, it's another I suppose.

Partly as a consequence of having had a cold last week, and partly through gratuitous over-indulgence in Otex Ear Drops, my ears are now bunged up.

I will spare you more detailed information, but essentially it feels like I'm inside, behind a window, able to hear most things but missing out on the fine details.

One of my colleagues here mentioned that he had to go to a meeting.

"We're doing a bug review," he told us.

At least that's what the others heard. Cottoned behind my dodgy ears, I was left wondering why a government department would be bothered getting its staff to do book reviews.

I seem to miss out on high frequencies, and the most annoying thing is that I tend to hear sounds but not be clear which direction they're coming from. In an open-plan office, that's particularly distracting, especially if you've got your back turned. Several times I very nearly answered questions that were not addressed to me at all but to someone on the other side of the room.

It's strange how even a slight deafness makes a huge difference to how you get on with people. Apart from having to ask the person you're with to speak up, leaving you feeling like a pensioner in the early stages of dementia, there is the simple fact that, in a group, it's easy to get left out. When you miss a passing comment, you can't keep asking for it to be repeated.

After a while you tend to drop out and not contribute. It's very enlightening - and sadly disturbing - how much social exclusion you get from even a slight deafness. What it must be like to be totally deaf I can't imagine.

Well, tomorrow I have a meeting with the nurse in my local health centre who will attack my ears with a large syringe. I have had this done on two previous occasions. The first time the nurse pulled at my ear with such casual vigour that I am not convinced she was aware it was actually attached to someone. The second time was better, although this nurse had a large pre-NHS ear-trumpet device for collecting the, er, stuff that came out. Somehow I resisted the temptation to look inside afterwards.

The thing with babies is, things happen so quickly.

I don't just mean that you can't leave them for 30 seconds because when you get back they will be busy trying to climb out the window or explore the electric sockets with a fork - though that's true too.

I mean that they develop so quickly you can barely keep up with them.

In the past week, Caitriona has learnt to stand upright (with the help of a piece of furniture or a family member, she's not too bothered which); to clap her hands together; and to converse on the subject of Tibetan Buddhism.

Well, actually she said "Dalai Lama".

Well, actually she said, "dadalala". But that's pretty close. She now babbles away happily to herself. I mean, she was making noises before, but her only word was "bthththffff" and you had to stand well back to avoid being sprayed with baby food.

I expect by Christmas she'll have mastered ancient Sumerian, quantum mechanics and synchronised swimming. But not, alas, changing her own nappies.

I've spent the last few days doing some work for a government department. I won't say which department, and it's not interesting really, but it's a change from the sometimes hectic world of video production.

I spent about three months this year working on a production which was fascinating to do but involved so much of my time that I was unable to see much of my family and had little idea when I would get to see them. I missed seeing friends on a couple of occasions because I was called away to do something at the last moment.

That sort of thing is fine if you're unattached, and up to three years ago I would have been delighted. But now I've got a family it's simply impractical. So now I have decided to rethink my work and I am going to enter into some big changes.

At the moment I am just coasting, working on a large corporate website, but in the future I am definitely going to spend a lot more time on my writing. It's what I'm best at, after all.

So I took some time off last week to go to the British Library to do some research. I had to renew my reader's pass (which I had not used for years) and I was able to go and consult some books in the Humanities Reading Room.

It's a beautiful building, huge, modern and calm as only a library can be. There's a continuous background hum of air conditioning, but that apart it's impressive and restful.

Yes, well, I have not gone away and actually I have lots of pictures and stories for you and lots of other stuff to report.

But it will be some time. Talk amongst yourselves, Life As It Happens will resume shortly.