
My pregnant mother had decided to have me at home - a home birth. Her GP, a fierce ex-miner called Dr Heathcote, had advised total bed-rest for the last month of her pregnancy. And as a woman who was full of energy this was always going to be difficult. A solution was reached. My father arranged to have a television installed in their bedroom in order that my tennis-obsessed mother could watch Wimbledon during the last weeks before spawning.