Tonight, as Rob and I were chatting about out day over a pre-dinner whisky, we heard a key turn in the front door lock. That could only be one of our children, we thought as we looked at each other, silent now. The door opened, closed, and footsteps clumped through the hall, across the room that has become Tom’s playroom, and a smile peered around the doorway into our family room. It was Tristan!

But he was unrecognisable in smart blue shirt and black trousers! The exhibition he had spent the past few weeks organising for his company Geoforce had been on that day, and he was on his way home. Thought he’d pick up some roof tiles as we had some spare, plus some disposable nappies as they had run out.

As we saw him out to his car with his booty, I thought what an amazingly big-hearted man he has become, after coming home from hospital all those years ago – a tiny babe, too small to cry…