A behavioural psychologist, Skinner
Made pigeons do tricks for their dinner.
The pigeons that could
Got three courses and pud,
And the pigeons that couldn’t, got thinner.

Me, with my nephew in 2002:

Me, with my nephew last week:

I think he’s got some kind of growth problem. Either that or, more likely, I now have YET ANOTHER NEPHEW! I’m now an uncle four times over, or looked at another way, FOUR UNCLES. I prefer to look at it that way because I’m quite thin for four people.

I think what we can learn from those pictures is that in six and a half years I’ve learnt to appear marginally less terrified when holding a baby. At this rate I reckon I can have one of my own in about 2047 and I might be able to pretend I know what I’m doing.

CHINCHILLA NEWS CHINCHILLA NEWS CHINCHILLA NEWS

…I haven’t really got any. News, not chinchillas. I have got those. They’re now the best friends in the whole world and use one another as pillows. I only wish we could get them to be as chummy with us as they are with one another. I tried persuading Jess to dress up as a giant chinchilla but she didn’t go for it. And possibly it would have terrified them.

I need to film them having a sand bath together for your viewing pleasure. Their bath is a Quality Street tin, which is amply big enough for one chinchilla to roll around in, but a bit of a squeeze for two. That doesn’t deter them though, and Jerry, by far the smaller of the pair, tends to get rolled on by his lardier friend, and you see Gus rolling about merrily with Jerry’s back legs sticking up from under him, wriggling frantically. Which sounds horrid, but he never seems much bothered. Though I think it gives us an excuse to buy a bigger box of chocolates.

That’s all I’ve got to say today. Well done those of you who’ve managed to stick with my novel so far, I realise with the rate I’m posting it the story’s progressing at a fairly glacial pace. It gets exciting soon, I promise.

We decided Gus needed a friend, so we got another chinchilla.

Gus is six months old, which isn’t much for a chinchilla - they can live into their twenties - but he’s like a grumpy old man already. Jerry, his new friend, is half his age, and acts like the excitable kiddie he is. Nothing seems to bother him - he’s like a smaller, hairier Pollyanna.

Grumpy old Gus was unimpressed by Jerry’s enthusiasm for life. Nor did he seem too happy with the newcomer’s propensity to nip him, and warded him off with angry noises whenever he got near.

…I wrote those three paragraphs earlier in the day, and I’ve just had to edit the last one for tense, because this evening there’s been a cessation of hostilities. We’d been introducing them gradually, letting them run around together in the hallway but then putting them away in separate cages. Their first proper getting-to-know-you session yesterday was a disaster - by the end of it Gus had lost enough fur to stuff a pillow, through a combination of shedding from stress and Jerry pulling it out. Today was a bit better, not because they’d bonded but because Gus had adopted the policy of hiding and growling should Jerry come near. It didn’t bode well for their first night sharing a cage.

But we put them in the cage together and they’re fine! There’s been mutual grooming and shared sandbathing and everything. Possibly Gus is lulling us into a false sense of security so he can kill Jerry when we leave them alone together, but all evidence so far suggests he’s not that clever. I think they might actually have resolved their differences and decided to be the best of friends.