I
remember Caroline coming into the room at the hospital and I had Tom cradled in
my arms and her saying ‘baby Sarah, Sarah baby, does not compute’, because the
person least likely to have children out of the group of us was me. I was too
independent to have children and there I was, with a baby in my arms. And I remember the first day of nursery and
the first day of infant school and junior school and public school and Reeds. I
remember every feeling and smell of those days. I have loved every moment of Tom. Every time
I have travelled with him, be it for work or play, I’ve enjoyed his company and
loved his cuddles and he has made my life richer and fuller and more meaningful
than anything else in my life. He has
made my life have value. And I hope to God, I've been a good mother. We will see.
We’ve
been tiger trekking in India. I remember when we met that young male tiger on
safari and he was only about two hundred yards away and he looked at Tom with
curiosity and Tom looked at him, and I wanted to cry. Tom was born in the year
of the tiger and that year was the year of the Tiger and it seemed just right. And then we went to Antarctica for Christmas
and saw the seals and whales and albatross and the icebergs like Henry Moore
sculptures. And the garden route safari in South Africa where we
were stuck in a van with another family who bickered all the time, and saw four
of the Big Five and Tom was fascinated by the tortoises crossing the road and
the dung beetles because they ate poo. He
was only five. And the trip to the Gold coast of Australia
and Brisbane and Tangalooma Island, where Scooby Doo One was filmed – Tom told
me. And when he went sky diving in
Mauritius, and paragliding in Umbria, and we went on the California loop and he
gave me a new perspective on Las Vegas. “Do you realise how cool this is
mum? A city of lights in the middle of a
desert”. I put that line in the article.
And he wrote his own pieces in National Geographic Traveller and was
featured on the front page of the Guardian Travel Section when he was three,
his first time on skis. And we’ve been
filming for the BBC Holiday Programme in Mallorca, and New York and Thailand
where he thought he had three extra daddies, one carrying a camera, one
carrying a boom mic and one bossing the other two about all the time. And we’ve been to the Galapagos and Ecuador,
and I’ve driven an RV sixteen hundred miles around the Yukon with him following
in the footsteps of the goldrush stampeders. And did we see a bear? No we did
not. If we had run out of diesel we
would. And he’s fished in the Bennett
river and helped carve a genuine totem pole.
And we’ve been swimming with seals and dolphins and stingrays, although
we gave the sharks a miss. He’s hugged
and stroked a leopard, and baby huskies and the giant tortoises, and played chicken with
seals. We’ve been to Eurodisney three
times and on the Peter Pan ride well over fifty times. We both loved the idea of flying in the
stars on a flying pirate ship. Tom has
met Father Christmas in Finland three times, although the first one was the
best, as he had a real beard and Tom was so intimidated he couldn’t even say
hello or ask for the Lego he wanted.
He’s
met Norman Wisdom when he was three months old in his home in the Isle of Mann,
and the cast of Wicked, although again, he couldn’t say anything to them. And the late Robin Day and David Frost and
Yehudi Menuhin but he was just a baby.
And
this year we’re going to Madagascar. I must remember to book the malaria
tablets and the other injections.
And
now he’s all grown up, and its the last speech day at Reeds, and the jazz band starts playing.
The
governor makes a good speech and not too long. The head makes a better speech
but half an hour too long and Tim Henman, an old boy, makes a good speech about
him being much better at tennis than he was at economics. And then the boys go up for their prizes and
Tom takes his bow and shakes hands and takes a cup and then he’s gone. So quick.
Then
the head girl speaks and she’s funny and articulate and manages to keep it
together. And then the head boy speaks, who’s warmer and not as funny but more
sincere and nearly breaks down at the end and so does everyone in the marquee.
I’m so pleased the jazz band is playing something jolly.
And
then it’s the end. And we go out and everyone mingles and we take photos of
each other and I thank his geography and drama teachers, as I can’t find his
English teacher.
Tom
is going back with us to have lunch at the pub at the top of the road, and then I turn and that’s it. That’s Tom’s School Days gone. Unless I can offer him a trip to the moon. Or California at a push.
