Thursday night was a big night in the household diary. The 11yr old was playing table tennis at the Royal Albert Hall- not only was he playing- he was playing celebrities! So I had my hair done- well I’m not going to miss a chance to be Mother of the talented one- and who knows who I could mingle with?

The Old Man was tired before we even set off for it, yes he gets up for work in the fish van at 4am- but hey it’s not everyday you can say your son’s played at the Albert Hall!! On our way to the car he commented about the length- or lack of it- of the 6yr olds skirt. I could feel a Victor Meldrew evening coming on!!

A nice drive through Hyde Park, waving encouragingly at the running club congregating at the pond, calmed things down a bit and got us in the sporting mood. The hair was looking bouncier than ever and the outfit perfect- not dressy, but not too casual. Make up a bit on the heavy side for me, but I was sure under the subtle lights of the Albert Hall it would knock years of my 44.

Not a chance!!!  The harshest lights I’ve ever seen greeted me on arrival highlighting my pan stick orange face and ghoulish looking eye shadow. The jeans and trainer dressed crowd probably took me to be the half time entertainment. Even the 6yr olds skirt started to look a bit on the short side to me too. Still nothing was going to ruin our night.

We took our seats and watched the Table tennis Masters take to the table. With my new-found knowledge of ping pong, I clapped and cheered in all the right places- adding a few “ooh great serve, ah wonderful backhand top spin”.

Only one more game to go till the ‘celebrity challenge’ and our golden moment!

The 6 yr old picked this moment for a “I need the Loo” run. The Old Man was reliving his schoolboy Champion days, giving advice on the World Number 6’s spin serve- yeah right!! Gladly clown woman shuffled past everyone again and paid £13 for two drinks and a bag of cashews. This was it the moment- as we approached the doors we were stopped by a woman saying “you can’t go in yet, the match is on”- “Yes I know it’s my sons’ match, my moment, my spot of fame- I must go in”- No amount of talking would budge her. We finally got in as we saw the 11yr old leaving centre stage after beating Martin Offiah and some Olympic hurdler, and the announcer saying “one for the future, a superstar”. He didn’t even get to wave to his Mother in the crowd- as she was outside the door crunching expensive cashews!!!

At the end of the night I had to battle through the crowd carrying the now asleep 6yr old, skirt up around her waist, tights on show, as the Old Man went to get the car, to get to the 11yr old surrounded by people. Sir Phillip Green had his arm round him saying how he’d been beaten by him backstage. No Top Shop discount for me then!!

Signalling to him to meet outside I decided to forget mingling I was too ruddy tired. Of course it was raining as I got outside, turning the sleek, shiny hairdo back to its original ball of frizz. The heavy mascara had run into the eyes making me look like a panda with an orange face.

As I tucked the 11yr old in bed he said, “Mum, it was great, what a shame you didn’t see it, you would have been so proud” “I’ve had the best night ever I said”, and I meant it- I mean it’s not everyday you get to kiss a TT superstar goodnight now is it??