Schools....yes, you read that right, schools

The lad is only just getting used to sitting up, memorising his times tables and reciting the kings and queens of England are but a twinkle far off in his distant horizon....and yet we've already had a look around his first potential school.

Thanks to the outstanding generosity of my father-in-law, junior is going to benefit from a private education. To anyone unfamiliar with the quality of state education in Britain - and London's schools in particular - that might not seem a big thing, but believe me it is.

However, just throwing money at the problem is not, in this case, a guaranteed solution. You see in London we have a glut of wealthy types to whom a few grand a term for young Tarquin or Yolanthe is small beer indeed. Barely more than it costs to run the Range Rover or pay for the full time nanny so mummy and daddy don't have to get their hands dirty with the offspring.

Thus, even among the private sector a clear pecking order has formed, and the school we visited today (which will remain nameless, just in case we get into the mixer for a place and somehow this blog gets attributed to yours truly) is up near the top of it - at least in our neighbourhood anyway.

And very nice it is too. Very nice. But with more than 400 serious applications for 32 places each year the lad's got about as much chance of getting selected for it as he has of going to a madrassa.

In fact the clear message from today's tour was "don't get your hopes up, folks". Our guide talked about their desire to have a spread of abilities, but clearly that spread starts at extremely bright and goes to Steven Hawking.

Fair enough. At least the process of selection seems reasonably fair. The missus was telling me of some schools elsewhere in the Capital where selection is done more on the 'first come, first serve' basis, with a birthday early in the month offering an advantage. Thus some mums are having elective Cesarians to ensure their offspring are born on the first or second of the month, with dad having the application forms ready to fill in while his wife is still being stitched up. What a world we live in today.

From our Middle East correspondent….

So, here I am, away from the family on my annual business trip to the Gulf. Unfortunately, since my last stay here my hotel has been discovered by The Germans. No surprise I guess, given the perpetual sunshine here and that race’s seemingly insatiable desire to sunbathe.

What it does mean, of course is that any attempt to get near the hotel pool or its private beach means running the gauntlet of overweight bodies wrapped in overcooked skin…not that several days of a ‘hotel diet’ have exactly worked wonders for my physique either.

Solo business travel is never a happy scenario for the naturally glum and unsociable, and sure enough the void of human company has been filled with watching too much rubbish foreign TV and pigging out on too much rich food, along with other unsavoury activities….

Needless to say my insides are already protesting vehemently at this onslaught, and we’re only just over half way through the trip.

Missing the lad furiously, of course. The missus had thoughtfully secreted one of his little vest tops in my suitcase, as a reminder of him while I’m away. A nice touch, although I’m sure the hotel cleaner thinks I’m some sort of perv, as I’ve hung it over the suit stand and there’s no other evidence of a childly presence in the room…

If I’m totally honest I’d also admit I’m glad in a way for a few days’ break from the responsibilities of fatherhood, to have only myself to look after (however poorly). I’ve questioned why new mothers go back to work even though it makes little sense financially…I’m now coming round to the belief that this choice comes down more to a need to share the burden of 24/7 responsibility that is a child with somebody else – even a stranger – than to any desire to rejoin the rat race. While explaining it, this still doesn’t justify it in my mind.

The last days will hopefully fly, as will I back to the family seat. Wonder if I’ll be able to look at him when I get home without blubbing???

Every time you go away....

It's been a while since I've been on here - just the usual too many other things to do and not much to say scenario!

But an interesting time coming up - an extended business trip that will see me away from the lad for the longest period since he was born. Thanks to the utter incompetence of Dell Computer my sparkly new machine at home has proved to be a dud, and sadly the old one that I've pressed back into service cannot cope with such innovations as webcams, so my best laid plans for regular videoconferencing with the missus and sprog have turned to dust. Bugger.

So it's going to be over a week until I see him again...wonder how much he'll change in that time? He's just learned how to laugh, well chuckle would be more appropriate, which is disarmingly cute and cannot fail to raise a smile on my own lips.

I'll miss him to be sure. Hope he remembers who I am when I get back....