I saw my niece today for the first time. Eve is six days old, and she is very small, and she is very pink, and she is very cute. ....."aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"......

Seeing Pete and Naomi with a baby is a bit of a peculiar sight, though. It's Pete! With a baby! It's Naomi! With a baby! It's Pete and Naomi! With their baby! Shit. It's not that I feel much older now than I did this morning (I think the "I'm an uncle: shit" age barrier is a one-time thing, and obviously that happened with Zak back in October) but rather that Pete used to be my best mate, and me, P & N have on several occasions formed a perfectly-balanced(-ish) travelling trio in our jaunts around USA and Canada... and now - in the most beautiful, life-affirming way possible - those carefree days have been firmly consigned to the past. End of an era, etc...

...and, more importantly, the beginning of a new one. Refreshing to see that parenthood is apparently filtered through the same unique lens that Pete has been using for the previous 27 years of his life (his marcupial-derived, baby-holding pouch makes him "look like Uncle Owen", while Proud Father-like cries of "who is it, Eve? it's Uncle Mike!" were tempered by "even if you can only see 25cm in front of you") although I don't see any obvious reason why having a kid necessarily forces one to become a boring bastard. Naomi, meanwhile, looks great: positively radiant, even - all aglow with some kind of post-natal lust for life, and understandably chuffed to be back in her favourite pair of jeans once again. Encore: "aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh".....

Yep, I'm in Sheffield right now, typing away in Ben and George's spare room. Earlier this week I went up to Leeds to visit (high school friend) Tom, who's just graduated, where we were joined by Andrew, likewise - so, the three of us shared some drunken reminiscing (of course), trawled a few charity shops, enjoyed the cheap Gregg's, and yelled at Jamie Carragher (for a full match report - less boring than it sounds - please see my other blog, of course. Is it wrong to keep bringing it up? I look upon it as a natural extension of this one, so I don't think so.) It was a fun few days, even if the general conclusion was "shit, where did all that time go?" - hardly original sentiments as post-graduation reunions go, but valid nonetheless.

Time for some sports, I think. It's been a while.

French Open tennis guff: the less said the better with regards to the British 'hopes'. Murray's hopes continue to be blighted by recurring injuries, intrusive media, and bad sportsmanship (from both himself and his opponents), while Henman and Rusedski are both hurtling towards oblivion (at least Rusedski has the grace to do so with a smile on his face. Probably because he's not British.) Beyond the usual Brit failure, I'd just like to say: come on Roger! I think Nadal is great, but Federer is so graceful across the court, and is so clearly the best player playing today, that it would be a shame for him to not hold all four slams at once. He's five matches away from doing so! His only hope, it seems, is for Nadal to lose to someone else en route to the final - unlikely. Either way, another Federer/Nadal final is not to be sniffed at, and the sense of a genuine rivalry in tennis after the tepid Roddick/Federer feud of recent years (did Roddick actually win a match?) is a great preamble to Wimbledon. Over in the women's draw, and I'm not going to pay much attention until the quarter finals, when I anticipate the eight survivors to be comprised entirely of players from the top 12 seeds (such is the startling depth in the women's game). In any case, come on Martina - nicer than the Belgians, and everyone loves a good comeback.

Non-World Cup football guff: Chelski Allstars XI go from strength to galactico strength, with the signing of Ukrainian goal-machine Andriy Shevchenko. Honestly, they're just taking the piss now, surely? Ballack and Shevchenko as their two big post-season signings? Shiiiiiit... And of course, this is before Mourinho/Kenyon/Abramovich watches the World Cup at home/on a plane/on his private yacht and spots an unearthed gem with a decent first touch and team ethic/global marketing potential/vaguely Slavic demeanour, before making a frustratingly unassailable bid for their talent... and all for 6 starts and 17 subsitute appearances next season. And then loaning them to Birmingham. (Actually, now that Birmingham have finally got themselves relegated, where will the Chelski rejects flock to? My guess is that Wayne Bridge has paved the way; expect to see Salomon Kalou/Lassana Diarra/Damien Duff at Fulham from January next season.)

(Now, for whatever reason, I feel the need to devote a good portion of this entry to a discussion on the relative pros and cons of the current series of Doctor Who. I write this parenthetical introduction/warning - thanks to The Wonders of Technology - having already written the following paragraph, which goes on for a lot longer than I thought it would when I started writing it. As per usual.)

That Dr. Who episode on Saturday - the one set around the coronation - good episode, I enjoyed it a lot. However, this series needs to go through two or three undeniably brilliant episodes over the next month or so for the "which is better - series one or two?" debate to last longer than two words: BAD WOLF. The Cybermen two-parter, after its breathtaking opening episode and tantalising cliffhanger, had the chance to bring this series up to speed with a conclusion of devastating mayhem and carnage, splattered on the sci-fi blank slate provided by a parallel (parrallel? parralel? they should have a spell-check on this thing) universe. Instead, however, Part Two effectively had its conclusion half way through the episode, paving the way for an unnecessarily sentimentalised (even by Dr. Who standards) and interminably protracted departure for Mickey, a character few people seem to even like, let alone care about (myself excluded). We didn't need all that bollocks just so Noel Clarke can go off and write another Kidulthood without worrying that the Beeb will call him back to shoot another pish scene with Billie. Mickey's departure was not the only black spot against the episode, however. The supporting characters - usually so important to the plot and, even more importantly, usually so funny - were simply shit: a middle-aged woman with 'DEAD' written on her forehead in massive letters and a dying message for her relatives; and a very annoying, very badly performed Geordie sidekick who was, possibly, in Byker Grove. (Joel thought so anyway.) No no no - and thus, in dropping the ball so spectacularly, Part One's brilliance was undone. (See also: Descent.)

David Tennant did very well on Saturday, and my initial feeling that series two's shortcomings owe much to Eccleston's absence now rings somewhat hollow. Instead, I would point to a decline in the quality of the scripts; Russell T. Davies is apparently less of an influence this year, and given how - on all accounts - he was almost single-handedly responsible for just how ruddy successful The Doctor's regeneration was, this is a shame. Even overlooking the occasionally jarring switches from melodrama to horror to very funny comedy (which, admittedly, Eccleston often made smoother than his successor), the allegories which underpin Dr. Who (and indeed all good sci-fi) now seem somewhat monotonous. The abovementioned Cybermen double-episode, pointing out the dehumanising potential of media-controlled thought processes and 'daily downloads' resulting from humanity's enduring fascination with new technologies, was followed by an unavoidably similar parable, set in the 1950s and showing the new television fad as, potentially, little more than a destructive medium capable of turning the human race into mindless, thoughtless proles. (Excellent scheduling, however, to see it broadcast only 20 minutes after Deal Or No Deal goes out on C4.)

All that said, however, and I must say that Dr. Who remains far and away one of the best shows on television: a slice of entertainment to be enjoyed with lights off and not the slightest sense of irony (although, admittedly, that occasionally helps for the weaker episodes). I will continue to watch this series as avidly as I have done thus far, and am fair-to-middling in my confidence that a momentum shall gather leading to an earth-shattering conclusion. Hopefully scripted by Davies. And hopefully involving Bad Wolf again...

...speaking of which, all this Dr. Who talk is surely reason enough to put up another photo of Rose Tyler on this here blog. (Again, I re-iterate that the attraction is to the character and not to Billie. I can tell you don't believe me. Well, google image billie + dr who and all manner of scantily clad photos come up - so why did I choose this one, eh?

hello pretty lady

because it's all about Rose!)

I'm in Sheffield for another few days - I'm watching the Jamaica friendly with Pete, which I'm really looking forward to as we'll not be able to see any of the World Cup together. Then it's back down to London on Saturday for a cheap week of football (real-life and computerised) in preparation for an intensive month of, er, more football (televised).

In a bit, then.