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If the wingpiglet had waited one more day before emerging, not only would he have been born 100 years to the day after my maternal grandmother was born but it would have meant that his first birthday party would have been held on his actual first birthday rather than on the day after, as a Saturday would be easier for most of the guests. As well as his usual infant colleagues from the various things he goes to, both sets of grandparents, both aunties and Nicky's west coast peer group and their offsprings he met his uncle Mike for the first time and finally got round to a little unassisted walking in his new shoes after regressing slightly and initially only walking in them when supported, as pictured. If you look closely you can see a lump of cheese in his left fist. Fortunately no-one and not much food was blown away by the high winds and no-one came to shout at the people who'd parked on the links, though the crickety people (who kindly let the people of above nappyable age use their toilets) seemed to be getting away with cars too.

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