Babies' first Christmas...

... and didn't they do well? Finchley Memorial Hospital may seem to show fewer wards, fewer patients, by the year, but this Christmas Day our carol-singing trip was happily predictably longer than usual, as the two new arrivals to the team became instant, smile-inducing stars of the show.

Not that the patients were the only ones making the most of my two new nephews - the clock was ticking agonisingly away until l'il Kim's Boxing Day flight with his mother Jessie and grandmother May to meet the grandfather he hadn't yet met - fully fair enough, though it denies us his special company for a long three months now...

Still, he certainly seemed to enjoy this final full London-day 'til springtime:

And we'll certainly miss his array of outfits, too, all swiftly knitted by May, wool whirled into vivid shape swifter than a shake of a, er, lamb's tail...

Hopefully something special of the day has stuck in Kim's four-month-old mind (and Harry's, one month older and maybepossiblyperhaps wiser... or not) - while the mountain of babygrows, cuddly creatures, zipbopwhirr-ing toys should keep them distracted awhile - even if at times the boys found the wrapping paper more intriguing, even actually appetising...

See you in Spring, Kimmy, we'll miss you in the meantime - maybe by the time he returns, he'll be able to crawl/walk/talk/in English/in Mandarin/eat with chopsticks/explain Confucianism...

Or just remember the rest of us, that'll do just fine for now, and then...