I just cried. I'm not an especially tearful person for the most part so that was kind of odd.

It's just over 500 days since Benjamin, my son, was born. He's no longer the fragile newborn. He eats normal food, he walks, he sleeps through the night. He's a very healthy little fellow. He doesn't talk yet but I've no doubt it's in the post.

On the occasion of Mum and Dad's 40th wedding anniversary I was prompted into making a speech. Not my natural thing really but it went okay - give or take a little (welcome) heckling from various Aunties present... I thought I'd put the notes of the speech up here - they're pretty much left as I had them on the day and you'll notice the occasional PROMPT FOR ME TO ASK THE PEOPLE PRESENT SOMETHING in caps. This is the speech:

It's now been 4 months since Benjamin was born. I realised the other day that many things were happening. Each day there are changes; every morning something is different. And so I wanted to note down where we are, what's happened, how we feel, what it's been like.

... and this is him!

It's the morning of June 14th 2012. Lisette is 9 months pregnant. Well 9 months and a day; she was due to give birth yesterday. I've attended the classes and so I know that kids aren't like microwave meals. They don't click and ding in exactly 3 minutes. They can come at any time. So for the last month that's pretty much what I've been expecting. Imminent arrival. It hasn't happened. But something's happening now... Lisette woke in the night. This isn't unusual at all. Since Lisette started on maternity leave she's pretty much adopted (the cat) Maggie's lifestyle. That is to say, she has about 3 or 4 sleeps a day and prowls the house during the night. Though thankfully she hasn't yet tried to use the catflap. But last night was different. When Lisette woke she felt a little strange. Not "I'm going into labour" strange; more "I've eaten a hot Thai curry" strange. As it happened she had eaten a hottish curry the night before. But lets not mince words; this was, sorry, this *is* labour. The contractions (after they'd been happening for 4 hours Lisette agreed that it probably wasn't a dicky tummy after all) are currently spaced about 5 minutes apart and they last about a minute. I know this as it's my job to time the contractions. We've gone high tech for that; we're using an app on Lisette's iPhone. When one starts Lisette cries "push the button" and I hit Start. Then when it's done she cries "'K" and I hit Stop. I've had more taxing jobs. Though nature has conspired to help me sympathise. In a cruel twist of fate I have this week developed a minor medical condition (I'll spare you the details) which means I've been doing a fair amount of groaning myself. It's probably not that comparable but I like to think it helps me to empathise. Lisette called the hospital and they said it was too early to go in. "Take paracetamol and have a bath" they said. Lisette's done both. It doesn't seem to have made any discernible difference. Maybe that's their stock advice to stop people going to the hospital too early. I'll sign off for now I think, I guess it'll all kick off soon. Exciting! Scary... Exciting!

It was now evening in Sicily and the sun was beginning to set. Lisette and I found ourselves in a cafe 5 miles from where we were lodging. The cafe was filled with about 40 elderly men; all drinking coffee and talking loudly. I tried addressing the man behind the counter: "Scusi Signore" I ventured (my Italian is not fantastic), "uhmmm, taxi... Scopello... Per favore?" The barman frowned. "Non. No taxis in Castellammare." And there he left it. It had, all told, been a very long day indeed.