This morning, a work call. "Could you write a piece on the loss of innocence?" This was, it turned out, a reference to Daniel Radcliffe in the buff. And the effect this might have had on my children. Who did indeed express outrage - eeewwwwwww - at snaps of his boyish nakedness. In that sense, it's been a tough few days for my youngest. I took her to Faust on Friday. In a warehouse in Wapping. Wearing masks, we wandered aimlessly in the dark. Through five floors of eerily decked rooms. Around us, dramatic action broke out intermittently. Then came the crescendo. Faust, stripped bare. My youngest jabbed my shoulder. "Why are we watching this?" "Hang on a sec," I said. It was the closest I'd been to a naked man in eons;-) On Sunday, lunch with my favourite environmentalists. Conversation traversed the globe - Antarctica, the Galapagos, Tahiti and the Amazon. And kept returning to matters entomological. Stories of rats crunching on cockroaches as sewers burst in eastern climes. And flies that fry your eyes. Forget the jungle holiday, I muttered, chewing on pork with apricots. Which brings me to my tum. It is finally better. But larger than ever. Because I've been gorging. In the mistaken hope the bug would dispatch it all. Yesterday in town, a serious lunch. Two fish courses. Across the table, a grandee pontificated about "hewers of wood and drawers of water". Our subject was vocational education. How to get it on an equal footing with academic achievement. I felt his references were less than helpful:-(