…Asked Eddie at breakfast a couple of days ago. “Is it William grinding his teeth?” “It can’t be,” I replied; “he hasn’t got any top teeth to grind.” A quick feel of his top gums by Eddie subsequently revealed that this was no longer the case and that a small tooth had decided to appear at the top, with the neighbour hot on its heels. After the last hideous experience of teething we couldn’t believe this time it could be so easy and painless. It wasn’t.
Later that night we went to Cate and Jim’s for one of their legendary paellas (leaving Will asleep at home – the monitor works across the road), but I ended up leaving early after Will couldn’t settle at all. He ended up asleep on me in our bed – something reserved only for when he feels particularly terrible. Fortunately use of Calpol was kept to a minimum and we left him in the capable hands of Mrs Brereton on Saturday and headed off across the hills with the East (and North) End posse in our minibus, to mix with the Great And The Good of Hampshire at Combe Manor for an evening of fine wines, good food, opera and caberet – all courtesy of the incomparable Mr David Russell. Wonderful.
William's First Year 