THIS week I sat down to write my column and realised my brain had left the building.

Witty prose this will not be, as I can barely string together a sentence.

"Please will you pass me the...er..." is how a lot of my conversations have started this week.

Often they've continued with: "...you know...the plastic thing that you press buttons on."

Smithy (or a long-suffering friend) will then desperately try to work out whether I mean the TV remote, my mobile phone or even just the salt grinder.

"Er...this?!" they say desperately, as I point and wave and continue describing the item using anything but its actual name (like a spontaneous and far less fun round of 'Articulate').

I'm told on good authority (my mum - an expert after three children) that I've developed a case of good, old-fashioned 'baby brain'.

Apparently, she says, I ought to get used to it because I'm stuck with it for the next 10 weeks.

"Ah, it's perfectly normal," she says. "We all get it. You'll be fine once you've given birth!"

Surprisingly this is no consolation when I'm halfway through an interview and can barely remember my own name.

"So...er...this event is quite important, is it?" I asked a government minister when she visited the area last week to make a major announcement.

"Yes..." she said kindly. "It is a bit."

But this is not all.

In addition I've quite accidentally begun to channel my inner bull-in-a-china-shop, which means I can no longer be trusted around anything I can't afford to replace.

Even the kitchenware aisle in Morrisons (one of mine and Smithy's favourite places) is now off-limits, as there's no point smashing their perfectly good Pyrex jugs for no reason.

(If you think I'm exaggerating bear in mind that in the pub on Saturday I managed to knock a pint of Pepsi over that wasn't even on my table).

However, I can see some advantages to this sudden affliction.

I think from tomorrow I might have to start excusing myself from office brew rounds (hot water is not my friend).

And surely I can't be trusted to make tea anymore - think of all the pans of boiling water!

So for the next 10 weeks I might become a little more stupid and even less co-ordinated than I am now...and I might actually quite enjoy it...