Mum arrived last off the flight by some way and so of course I was convinced that she was on her way to Siberia on some other plane. Imagine the scene... snow piling up, a row of silver birches line the road up to the airport, I run towards her crying "Mummy! That's my mummy". Sort of the Railway Children meets Dr Zhivago (with me as Jenny Agutter of course).
Actually it was a little more prosaic than that... a rather tired slightly bewildered woman dragging a variety of suitcases appeared from around a corner, muttering,
"You could have adopted from Bournemouth".
But I forgave her because she had brought newspapers and Kitkat. Even the Daily Mail looked good.