Laura has had 2 clarinet lessons, up to now, and she's doing well. I've had a bit of a go myself and I can hardly make a noise but she can play E and D natural with only occasional squeaks. The sight reading's coming on, too, she knows how to count a crochet, a quaver and a semi-quaver. She's enjoying it and she's keen.

If Laura has a fault, academically and in everything else, it's that she's a perfectionist. She expects to be able to do things straight away and she can get very annoyed with herself if she doesn't get it right first time. Clarinet practise means that her mum and I have to praise, constantly, and reassure her that she's doing fine.

The other day I found a youtube clip of Benny Goodman and his...

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The Chinese have a saying, "The much-loved child has many names". Our dad surely loved us, then, as we all 3 had dozens of names from him. We answered to them all, too.

Brother 2 (7 years my senior) was, by all accounts, a very inquisitive small child. Our dad could do a passable impression of his younger male offspring who as a toddler, apparently, met every statement and action with the flat demand, "Why?", accompanied by a determined expression. You didn't get away with ignoring him. It didn't take long before our dad referred to him, often, as The Why? Boy.

He was a tactile man, our dad. He wasn't given to openly embracing his children, particularly his sons, once we'd got past pre-school...

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It's my biggest brother's birthday in just over a week. That's my biggest brother, in years not in size, not my 2nd big brother who's nearly 3 years younger than him but 4" taller. My big brother will be.........75.

I'm sure there's something wrong somewhere. Some years have, apparently, been put in a time-cruncher and disposed of in a hurry. It's not that time already, is it?

We first met, obviously, on the day I was born. I don't remember this meeting - the mists of time, you know how it is - but, I gather, he and my 2nd big brother had no idea I was about to arrive (such matters were, in 1943, considered too indelicate for children to know about). I made my rather loud entrance into the world at 7.15...

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Well, our Jo and John came back from Majorca last night. Jo said she'd collect Travis this morning, as it would be late when they got home, so I said that was fine.

We've had a good week. Travis has become one of the family while he was here and was absolutely "at home", sleeping on my bed (when I was too asleep to kick him off) and lying on the floor with Laura, her head on his flank, snoring gently. He's had lots of very long walks, been brushed until he almost shone and has been generally adored.

The only thing that didn't gel was his name. I've called him Jet/Jo/Nik/Alan/Laura/Erm/Travis, more than once but the piéce de résistance was Nik on Saturday afternoon. On one of their walks Trav mutated...

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It all started at the weekend when our Jo rang to say she and John were going to Majorca for a week - the next day. She wouldn't usually have a problem but Peter, who would have been there looking after the dog and the 3 cats, had announced he was staying at his girlfriend's parents' house as they were going away and she didn't want to be alone.

Right, says Jo to me, the neighbour is going to come in several times a day and feed the cats but we don't know what to do with Travis, the dog. He's not up to date with injections so no kennel will take him and he can't go with Peter as Clare has a dog and Travis, a big soft, loving lump with all humans (except postmen whom he regards as cannon-fodder), hates other dogs.

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