I’m not very good with surprises. What I mean by that is that I have really strong intuition and when people try to surprise me I usually guess – if not the whole thing, at least, part of it.
When my friends tried to surprise me for my 30th – Bon Jovi at the National Lottery, party etc – I had to look surprised, but really I knew.
Anyway, when No 1 Son was born, we had to stay a few days in the hospital because the labour had been so long. I was desperate to leave and go back home with Man of the House so we could start being a family. It was hot and uncomfortable on the ward, one of the other patients kept shouting at the staff and I just wanted to go.
Eventually, after five days in hospital, they said we were discharged. ‘I’ll go and get the car, while you pack everything up,’ Man of the House said. ‘I shouldn’t be longer than half an hour.’
‘OK,’ I said happily. I folded all the baby gros, gathered the flowers and cards, and laid No 1 Son’s snowsuit on the bed ready for his journey home. I couldn’t wait.
But after half an hour, Man of the House still hadn’t arrived. Another 15 minutes. Still no sign. By this point, I was starting to panic. What if he’d had an accident?
Finally, an hour later, he walked into the ward. ‘Where have you been?’ I said tearfully (hormones). ‘The traffic was really bad,’ he said.
We put our baby into his snowsuit and carry cot and set off home.
When we got to the flat, it was in darkness. I walked into the kitchen and turned on the light and there was the most beautiful bouquet of purple tulips, with a card, saying simply ‘Thank you, he’s beautiful.’
Of course I burst into tears.