Day 1

Got born today - a bit messy, and traumatic towards the end, but could've been worse. I quite liked the balmy 36 deg inside Mum, but ultimately, the whole pregnancy malarky got a bit confining. Now I've got the run of a whole ward and I'm planning an escape into the outdoors on Sat. Dad's going to drive the get-away, a la Steve McQueen, assuming he doesn't get too hammered out with Duncan and the pgrads on Fri night... Mum says not to expect a 9am'er.

Mum's great - not only did she carry me around for 9+ months without too much complaint but she's now opting for demand feeding: as much milk as I can drink, as and when I want it. I'm sure it won't last... Dad doesn't really do much, although to be fair he did take me swimming this arvo and changed my 1st soiled nappy (bit of a stinker, I'm afraid - sorry). He's said we can go for a kickabout in the park later when Mum's cooking tea.

I haven't quite decided who I follow in the footie yet, although obviously not the Pies (what was Mum thinking?). Dad heard the Herd's '(The King is dead) Everything must change' on the radio on the way home this morning, which seemed quite appropriate.

Beijing Olympics? That was SO before my time... don't know what all the fuss was about.

Right, better have some kip now... or some more milk? Decisions, decisions... I'm not X or Y, rather Gen Zzzz and this is the World According to FinnT, aged 20 hours and 6 minutes.