Given up using surrogate gay parents as child-care during summer holidays.

Friend Tim and his partner Gareth managed to lose the Rugrats for over an hour in a maze they'd taken them to as part of grand day out, while I got on with some work.

Wasn't alerted to missing state of offspring until they were recovered and brought home, extremely hyper, having consumed vast quantifies of sweets (intended as bribe, in return for failing to tell me about their lengthy separation).

Bribe had no effect whatsoever and they burst through the door and into former boot cupboard turned office, where was putting finishing touches to piece for which deadline was yesterday, with shouts of "We got lost", "Tim couldn't find us for ages," and "We got stuck in the maze."

Half suspected the loss was accidental-on-purpose, after Rugrats got off to bad start with Gareth, by greeting them with words: "The Woof's are here" and adding insult to injury by adding that "there are lots of woofs in Brighton".

Gareth certainly seemed offended and was only partly placated when Tim explained that they were referring to the dogs that go everywhere with him, rather than to their sexuality.

Anyway, no pressing deadlines requiring emergency childcare this week and managed to make a few necessary phone calls, while the BBC provided child-care in the form of Cbeebies, before telling anyone who needed to know that I'd be on my mobile and going out for the day.

Was enjoying one such day, sitting on the beach, throwing pebbles in the sea, while eating ice creams when said mobile rang.

On other end of it was one of most efficient, work driven and, therefore, scariest editors who wanted to discuss idea for piece I had emailed her earlier in the week.

Immediately forced to assume phone voice of someone equally efficient and work driven, who was putting some intelligent thought into the conversation we were having - rather than aimlessly throwing stones at the sea, while eating an ice-cream.

First step, in assumption of this character, was to put down ice-cream - so would not be tempted to make loud licking noises, thus causing editor to suspect that I was anywhere other than in front of computer in boot cupboard turned office, doing research and other industrious activities.

Having done so, tried hard to hear what she was actually saying above the noise of waves, seagulls, the palace pier etc. and was helped out in this by youngest Rugrat who picked up discarded ice-cream and put in my free ear.

This had effect of blotting out all other noise; an effect which, although beneficial to conversation with editor, I feared might possibly be long term.

Therefore, became distracted once again, as I tried to remove freezing mint-choc chip from inner ear, an operation which proved impossible to perform, while carrying on intelligent conversation with person sitting at desk in London.

Our conversation had, prior to this, been at the point where she appeared to be on the verge of commissioning piece from me. Now, was momentarily forced to take phone away from ear and deal with possible future deafness.

By the time I returned it to still useable ear, her mood had changed.

"Look," she said. "I don't know about you, but all I can hear is seagulls and waves. Perhaps you can call me back and we'll discuss it when you're not sunning yourself on the beach ..."