Today was my birthday: I was 33, which made me do a small, internal “eep!” at the though of being almost a third of a century old. Fortunately, my lovely family attempted to distract me from this fact: I had a luxurious solo swim in the International Pool in the morning (Eoin didn’t even have to brave the crèche, which was lucky for both of us), followed by presents and cake. In lieu of baking, Stephen hunted down some of the most spectacular cupcakes in Cardiff, above, from Madame Fromage, though he did manage to resist the bacon and maple syrup buns.
Perhaps the best present, though, came from Eoin: he suddenly decided that today was the day to take his first unaided steps, and began pottering around the sitting room just before lunch, taking us all by surprise. Seeing him wander off, totally unaided, gave me the oddest feeling: I was so proud and excited, and yet he suddenly seemed so far away. He was both amazingly grown-up and terribly tiny, all at the same time.
Thank you for my birthday present, sausage, but please don’t go too far away yet.