Alex Grech's photostream

Most Saturdays, Jacob and I walk from Manoel Island in Malta to Sliema. In winter, we've got most of the promenade to ourselves. Once the good weather kicks in, the harbour cruise guys take up residence. And that's where the fun begins. Because everyone assumes that because Jacob is blond, and I am his father, we must be dying to get on to a harbour cruise.

So Jacob now has a little ditty along the lines of 'Jiena Kavallier Malti' (I'm a Maltese Knight). Which invariably is met by a shrug and a grumpy 'Mela inti Malti?' (So you're Maltese?)

Jacob's holding a wooden shield with the Maltese cross. And in our garden he's safe from touts and people running harbour cruises.

My father blows a candle on his 71st birthday.

May he blow many more.

Doris Salcedo's Shibboleth in the Turbine Hall at the Tate Modern, London.

And yes, people have fallen in the crack.

Somerset House, London.

Jacob and Scarlett get up to no good on Christmas day.