IF I'd known what I was marrying into, I might have changed my mind. It all started when my wife's long lost cousin came to visit over Christmas.

They'd lost touch as children but managed to regain contact thanks to the Internet and thought it would be nice to finally catch up.

Cousin Tony's from London but he was visiting his in-laws in Durham during the holiday so it was arranged that he'd pop in.

A lovely, friendly fella, he arrived with his two teenage children who must have been generously bribed to have agreed to accompany their dad on one of those boring "visit the relatives" expeditions we've all had to endure.

They sat there remarkably patiently while their dad made up for lost time.

Me? I just fetched the tea and biscuits and listened politely. We were on our third cuppa and the cousins had thoroughly enjoyed themselves: reminiscing about the old days; fondly recalling Uncle Albert, Auntie Bridie and all the rest.

Then the family secrets began to be unlocked. My wife didn't know, for example, that her grandad, Harry, had been a well-to-do gentleman who lived in a mansion down south but had been ostracised by the family for daring to fall in love with a servant girl. An Upstairs, Downstairs sex scandal - now this was more like it.

But there was a bigger surprise to come. Tony had thought long and hard about whether to tell my wife, but decided she had to know - if she didn't know already.

I sat on the edge of the settee and dunked my custard cream eagerly. What on earth could it be? What else had their gallivanting grandad been up to in the big house?

But no, it had nothing to do with him. There was something in the family, said Tony. He had it and so did his children. The room fell silent. All kinds of disturbing thoughts ran through my head and a soggy custard cream wilted into my tea.

"What is it?" asked my wife, bracing herself for the bad news.

"We have webbed feet," said Tony.

I did well not to spit my tea all over the lounge.

"Webbed feet?"

Tony went on to explain that he'd been born with a certain number of webbed toes and so had his children. Probing the family tree, he'd discovered that webbed toes cropped up quite a lot. There was even an aunt who had a webbed hand.

This was much better than Grandad Harry's carry on in the big house.

"I think it might be where the family name comes from," he said as the news started to sink in. You see, the family name is Webb.

There was even a possibility that they could be related to Captain Matthew Webb, the first man to swim the English Channel.

"It could be that, as a kid, someone had noticed his webbed feet and realised he'd be a good swimmer."

This was getting better all the time. For a minute, I thought we might be about to discover that we were related to the Man From Atlantis.

My wife must have started to look alarmed because Tony quickly told her that there was absolutely nothing to worry about. The only problem with the condition was that you couldn't wear those socks with the individual toes.

It was no good. I had to leave the room.

There was, of course, a serious point to be made: that we shouldn't worry if webbed toes crop up with any of our grandchildren in the future. Funny feet run in the family.

So there we are - the family secret is out. If there's anyone out there on the Worldwide Webb with joined up toes, you are not alone.

FOOTNOTE: Did you know that Sir Cliff Richard's real name is Harry Webb - the same name as the gallivanting grandad? I'd give anything to see Sir Cliff with his socks off.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

JUST before Christmas, the Dad At Large Roadshow had a date at the old Royalty Theatre for a meeting of Sunderland Floral Art Club.

Sheila Rawlings, one of the members, told how she was born at home in Durham City and the midwife was leaving the house after delivering her.

"Bye, bye, I'll see you tomorrow," the midwife called to the baby's brother Leslie and sister Jennie.

"Blimey, is she gonna bring another one tomorrow?" whispered Leslie.

SHEILA Lawson knew a teacher at Hetton School whose daughter had lost her first tooth. Naturally, the tooth fairy left 50p under her pillow that night and the little girl was thrilled.

So thrilled that the next night, her parents discovered another tooth - this time craftily made out of cardboard - under her pillow.

The next morning, the little girl woke with a pang of excitement only to discover that the tooth fairy had left her a 50p - made out of cardboard.

Published: 15/01/2004