Oxford life. Thirtysomething challenges. Music leanings. Anything really.

Christmas is about family, and what a pleasure it is to spend time playing with little nephew William, two years old and learning. Seeing his eyes absorb every new piece of information is incredible.

It's also a little opportunity to be a bit mean. Ask him what noise a lion, an elephant, a snake or a cow makes and he's quite happy to tell me. Roar, hiss or moo - no problems here for this normal little boy.

The problems come when you get to a picture of a giraffe.

"What noise does a giraffe make, William?" I ask.

A blank response. No surprises there, what noise does a giraffe make? And this is where my opportunity arises. In the course of three days, I have successfully taught him that giraffes make raspberry noises. Tongue out, blow.

We left him today to head south, and I am safe in the knowledge that William could very well believe that giraffe's make raspberry noises for some time to come. I picture the time when he has an argument with a young friend. "No, Johnny, giraffes do go ppllllpppllplblblblpplblbllplplp. My Uncle Andy told me."