My parents’ first house was a nice, central semi-detatched Edwardian house on a hill which my father paid for in cash.  I find this even more impressive now that I have a mortgage of my own. About a year after they moved in, I was born.
I have asked them which bedroom was mine and they can’t remember.  I have also asked my mother what she did with me when she went back to work.  “It was the summer holidays”.  “I was born in March.” “Oh, so you were, I think a friend of your nana’s who lived on the Grand Parade came in to mind you.”  Feckless pair.