We are still unable to bring you a photograph of Bridget's two teeth. It's pretty hard to see them even when one isn't waving a camera inches from her inquisitive nose; much easier to feel them.

So, for all you viewers at home, here's how to get the authentic Bridget-teeth experience. You will need your finger, some water with which to moisten it, and - let's see - yes, a stapler. That should feel about right...

I forgot to mention that, when we were in Cambridge, we visited a very little Jonathan Bowler (congratulations to Dave and Erica on his appearance). I had forgotten how tiny a three-day-old baby is, that you can hold one comfortably tucked up on your chest, and that they seem to weigh about 6 ounces. Bridget seemed so enormous in comparison. I found myself feeling nostalgic and, OK, a bit broody too.

We added another glorious episode to the history of Great British Exploration today. We launched an attempt on Cosdon Beacon, the unassuming but very large hill visible from our house. Instead of trying the normal route - a direct assault from our front door - we drove round and established a base camp on the East side, ready for a trek up via the south col, then along the ridge from Little Hound Tor. For some reason, however, Bridget did not take to her backpack today, and she started muttering, then grumbling, then wailing. We got all the way to the col before deciding that, for the sake of Bridget's happiness and our sanity, we needed to turn round - at which point unforecast rain started. Bridget yelled. Heavy rain fell. We returned to our base camp with our tails between our legs, defeated by the forces of meteorology and geology. One day, Bridget, one day...

We've been investigating two nursery possibilities for a while now: the University's Family Centre, and a place called Stepping Stones in Okehampton. This week, we've decided to go for the latter, and have booked two days a week from September.

In August, we'll do some preparatory visits - staying there with Bridget the first time, then leaving her with the staff for longer and longer periods until she is used to them and to being left.

Then Hester's going to go back to work in September. She's already on a three-day-a-week contract, and can use accumulated annual leave to reduce that to two days a week (Wednesday and Thursday) for three and a half months. Hester's going to hand her notice in when she goes back, and work a total of four months, to take her to the end of December.

While Hester's working, we will have to drop Bridget off at 7.45am, and pick her up at 5.45 - there's not really any way in which we can cut it much shorter than that, given the hours Hester has to work and the difficulties of being a one-car family living 20 miles from work.

The half-month when Hester is working three days will be a bit complicated, but I should be able to cover those days.

Once Hester has left the Bill Douglas Centre, in January, Bridget will still go to Stepping Stones two days a week, although we might alter the timings. Hester needs some time to work from home (we have various irons in that fire), and Stepping Stones won't do less than two days a week - they reckon the children need at least that much continuity.

Stepping Stones looks fantastic. We have been very impressed by the staff, the facilities, the activities - everything. It's still going to be difficult, of course - but I think it will work.

Much of the time she isn't particularly interested in doing so, but from time to time Bridget can be persuaded to take her spoon and feed herself. Material needs to be placed on the spoon by the parent-servant (it being easier if Bridget keeps the spoon in her hand all the time); she then waves the spoon a bit, which is not a disaster if the food is sticky enough, and then pretty unerringly puts it in her mouth. The waving can be messy, but she so far doesn't seem to smear food on her face, in her hair, or over her clothes.

We should also report - I can't remember if we have done so - that Bridget is coping extremely well with finger food. She can feed herself rice cakes, biscuits, apple slices, cheese bits, nectarine segments, and so on - slippery things, things which require holding and biting, crumbly things, small things, sticky things.

We're almost out of the woods. (A strange metaphor for our subject-matter, until you remember what bears proverbially do there.) The actual diarrhoea is clearing up; we were almost back to normal yesterday and things look fine today. ('Things'. Hah.) The worst aspect has been the accompanying nappy rash - very unpleasant, and apparently quite painful. But this morning it is looking a lot less red and angry, and (for the first time in days) Bridget has not complained bitterly about being dirty and being changed.

We've suspected it a couple of times before, but this morning in church it was very difficult to think it accidental. During the first hymn, Bridget waved her leg in perfect time to the music.

Please God, don't let her be a drummer.

As of last Monday, Bridget can commando crawl - albeit in her own eccentric, elongated way. Here's how to get around, soldier: lie on your stomach with your head up, then pull yourself forward with your right arm, your left arm ending up tucked under your torso. You will find it convenient to lie your head down on its left side after the arm-pull, while you shuffle your legs forward. Pause, lift head, reach out and start again. The enemy will never see you coming.