The interior of 14a Clangham Road, for that was our home, was an unprepossessing environment devoid of all of those little knick-knacks such as wooden fruit, scented candles and iron fish that you undoubtedly have in your own home.  Not that I was conscious of this at the time as apart from the hospital ward and the B145 Carparkchurch North Circular I had no other point of comparison (and to be honest this remained so for the majority of my formative years).  Additionally there was not a single book to be found although the significance of that is not for your minds just now.  Much more importantly was the fact that I was at home at last and took simple delight in gazing contentedly at the walls of the front room, which had been decorated some years before in a tone of Quiet Magnolia With A Hint Of Soothing Peach. 

Mother, before placing me upon the beige sofa, had sensibly wrapped me in a tea towel in case I dribbled or was sick or did anything else that people of my age tend to do and it was from this elevated position that I now observed her as she unzipped the foldaway shopping trolley and proudly repositioned the advanced driver's test certificate back in its rightful place upon the mantelpiece.

It was at this point that I also observed the only other decoration in the entire room and that was a series of photographs which depicted mother in her younger days when she liked to wear a spotless white dress.  There was mother standing outside a fine old building and another where she was holding a glinting knife in front of a towering white cake.  Another showed her standing on a dance floor with one arm held upwards and outwards whilst the other was lower and out of sight.  But here was a puzzle, for although I could see another person's hand clasped around mother's waist and fingertips entwined with mother's own, yet oddly I could not see any other part of this mystery person at all.  It was to be many years before I discovered the truth behind this enigma yet the answer was quite simple in that this photograph, as with all of the others of mother dressed in white, had been folded in half and in doing so had almost completely obscured this other person from view.

‘Now for my P & Q,’ said mother as she turned away from the test certificate and picking me up from the sofa placed me down upon the lino covered floor.

Mother now lay lengthways across the sofa and within seconds began to sleep.  This was a sight that I was to become familiar with over the years and even now I can still picture her tiny frame stretched out, as fully as she possibly could, yet neither her feet at one end nor the hair on her head at the other touching either armrest. 

I too slept soundly through the late morning and although I was the first to stir, feeling somewhat hungry, I was unable to wake mother and instead lay patiently upon the floor until she was ready for me.

It was a loud rap against the front door that finally ended mother's period of resting.

‘Who’s that at this time of day?’ she said irritably as she rose from the sofa and quickly flattened her hair which had become misshapen as she slept.

‘Spezial delivery,’ came the reply from beyond the doorway in a broad accent that I could only place as being middle European.

‘I'm not expecting anything today,’ said mother as she peered through the spy hole of the front door at a deliveryman, whose red hair seemed exceptionally taut and whose red moustache was tauter still.  ‘Goodbye.’

‘Zurprise spezial delivery,’ continued the deliveryman. 

I observed mother peer through the spyhole once more and it must have been then that she noticed the deliveryman was holding a huge parcel wrapped in brown paper topped with a blue bow.  For a moment curiosity gained the better of her and she opened the front door slightly ajar and gazed quizzically at the deliveryman.

‘I'm not keen on surprises,’ replied mother as she suddenly regained her senses and attempted to push the door shut.

But it was far too late for mother to change her mind as the red haired deliveryman thrust the front door wide open before marching straight through into the front room.  I have to admit that despite mother's protestations I was keen to discover more about the surprise special delivery and moreover I was most intrigued by the deliveryman because from the moment he set eyes upon me he begin to wink and smile in the most friendly of ways.  I smiled back and excitedly wondered what the surprise could be as the deliveryman placed the parcel on the floor besides me.

‘I'm not keen on surprises,’ repeated mother.  ‘Never have been.’

‘Pleze you must open ja,’ encouraged the deliveryman.

I must admit that I could barely restrain my own excitement as mother, with little curiosity and certainly no excitement, peeled the brown paper away from the surprise special delivery.  Still neither of us knew what this object could possibly be and only when the entire front room was almost full of unwrapped wrapping paper did mother notice a miniscule label attached to the huge cardboard box.

‘A Deluxe Cradle With Auto Rocker,’ she read aloud and gazed questionably at the deliveryman. ‘Why would I want one of those?’

‘It's for ze boy, ja’ explained the deliveryman who had watched me intently the entire time mother was unwrapping the parcel.  ‘And vere shall yu like me to install it, ja?’

‘I don't know really,’ replied mother.

‘Hasn't ze boy gott ein sleeping room?’ asked the deliveryman.

‘I hadn't thought of that,’ explained mother.  ‘I really don't know.’

‘How about ze,’ suggested the deliveryman before coughing loudly into his taut red moustache and racing up the stairs to the spare bedroom with the Deluxe Cradle With Auto Rocker in tow. 

It was nearly twenty minutes before the deliveryman reappeared, looking somewhat hot and dishevelled it must be said, and succeeded for the second time in disturbing mother from her rest.

‘Would ze boy like to have a go now, ja?’ asked the deliveryman excitedly.

‘If he must,’ said mother who was evidently irritated at being disturbed and not in the least bit excited.

With no further encouragement required the deliveryman gathered me into his arms and bound up the stairs in three easy strides.  I had of course not been inside the spare room before and it immediately struck me that the air was stale, even with the window wide open as it was, as if no one had bothered to venture inside for a very long time.

‘What on earth is that?’ gasped mother as she peered inside and witnessed a complex association of ropes and gears and pulleys and yards and yards of elastic from which in the middle of the room was suspended a very tiny hammock.

‘Ze Deluxe Cradle Mit Auto Rocker,’ explained the deliveryman with an extraordinary expression of pride upon his face as he twiddled the end of his taut red moustache.  ‘Ze boy have a go, ja?’

‘If he must,’ replied mother disinterestedly.

In an instant the deliveryman stepped carefully through the contraption into the centre of the room and even more carefully placed me down in the centre of the very tiny hammock.  I have to say it felt really quite comfortable and much better than the lino covered floor of the front room to which I had recently been accustomed.

‘Yu see for ze auto rocker to activate ze boy must cry,’ explained the deliveryman to mother who didn't seem at all interested.  ‘Yu see if ze boy cries ze mechanism rocks and he sleeps again, ja.’

‘Oh,’ said mother suddenly much more interested by the concept now that she could see the possibility of resting for hours if not days without me disturbing her.  ‘Make him cry,’ she said keenly to the deliveryman.

‘Zat is for ze boy to do,’ explained the deliveryman patiently.

‘Oh,’ said mother quite impatient now to see the Auto Rocker in motion and slyly tweaked my toe.

I cried of course, can you blame me, and almost immediately the hammock began to rock gently to and fro and for a moment I felt I was back in the hospital in the comforting arms of Nurse Lovely and I became calm once more.  I looked up to see the deliveryman wiping a proud tear from his eye and mother looking bored and impatient that I had not yet fallen asleep. 

It was the moment when the deliveryman winked and I began to wriggle with laughter that things began to go wrong.  He winked again and I wriggled more and the hammock rocked faster than it had before.  It happened once more and then within a flash there was a huge crash as the pulleys and gears collapsed to the floor and a sizeable twang as the elastics snapped and a whoosh as I was catapulted across the room and straight out of the window and all along Clangham Road.

I swear (not that I would then although I confess I have a tendency to do so now) that I actually saw my old friend the ticket inspector gazing through the window of the B145 Carparkchurch North Circular as he continued along his circuitous route and I headfirst along Clangham Road.  I was even more astonished however when I came to land in the warm and secure arms of Nurse Lovely.  She too squealed with surprise and delight and I could not resist attempting to wink at her and make her smile more, just as the deliveryman had to me, as she carried me back to 14a Clangham Road.

‘Whatever was he doing out in the street like that?’ asked Nurse Lovely.

Mother shrugged, but did not say a word, unaware that the deliveryman was standing directly behind her and was beaming with delight at my safe return.

‘Your boy,’ smiled Nurse Lovely as she passed me back to the less than welcoming arms of mother.

‘I suppose,’ said mother reluctantly.

‘It is your boy,’ said Nurse Lovely.  ‘I recognise him for sure.’

‘My son,’ exclaimed the deliveryman who had suddenly lost his broad middle European accent as he stood forward and held out his hands to hold me.

‘My husband,’ exclaimed mother.

‘Dear,’ said father a little sheepishly.

Father I wanted to say as I looked up at the man who was no longer the deliveryman but was now my father and who was removing the taut red hair and moustache from his face. 

‘I am your father.  Your dad,’ he explained as the broadest of smiles spread across his clean shaven face and I could tell he thought I was special and I thought he was too. 

At this unexpected turn of events mother had become even quieter than usual and I could not really tell whether she was feeling angry or jealous or just in need of a rest.  Father continued to rock me proudly in his arms until he looked seriously at mother.  ‘Have you named him yet?’

‘No,’ mother answered dully.

‘No,’ exclaimed father.

‘She has been advised,’ advised Nurse Lovely.

Father looked at me and then at Nurse Lovely and finally at mother as an even bigger smile broadened across his face.  ‘We shall do it now.’