George Eliot, Middlemarch, Simon Winder, Danubia:A Personal History of Habsburg Europe; Francesca Simon, The Lost Gods, Graham Robb, The Ancient Paths: Discovering the Lost Map of Celtic Europe, Alan Beechey, This Private Plot, Alan Johnson, This Boy, Hakan Nesser, Woman With Birthmark

Middlemarch took forever to read, shamefully. Billy, or 'Bibs' (as Libby accidentally called him and which seems to be sticking) is taking up most of Helen's time with feeding and comforting, so I don’t have much time for reading left after looking after F&L and trying to keep the house tidy. The rest were read on holiday in Harcombe Bottom, when I rediscovered an appetite for reading. It has slowed right down since returning as have fallen back into the old routine. The up side of this is that I'm getting exercise again following two weeks of cream teas and cider.

Incredible to think that the last time I wrote the World Cup hadn't even started and Bibs was only 4 weeks old. That seems like a lifetime ago now. Helen saw a newborn yesterday and Bibs looked like a monster baby capable of devouring it whole. There has to be a limit to baby-led weaning though.  The World Cup seems to have sparked an interest in football from Fred, and he spends his waking hours in either his Woking shirt or his Tottenham shirt, The last couple of nights I've come home to find he's drawn Tottenham badges, one including a monster representing Arsenal. We often play 'Name 5', for example 'Name 5 islands' or 'Name 5 types of tree'. He doesn’t seem to like naming 5 Tottenham players though. He always gets Hugo Lloris, and sometimes Andros Townsend and then 'Eric. . . Eric'. Which could be Lamela, Dier or even Christian Eriksen

Libby absolutely has me wrapped around her finger. I'm still in the spare room as Bibs is in with Helen, and Libby wakes up in the middle of the night and hammers on the door to be let in. She then  climbs into bed and twists, turns and rotates until wake-up time. Just like her Mum, there is often a punch to my eye or a haymaker to my neck, or a kick in the ribs too. And then she tells me she loves me and gives a big hug and all is forgiven. She's so confident too. All holiday she was going up to strangers with her standard bellowed greeting 'I LIBBY!  WHAT YOU CALLED?' WHAT YOUR DOG CALLED?'