Today was overcast and cold. It was a pity as Mrs Wonderful and I went for a walk on Putney Heath. It was as if we were walking in the country. Wild flowers were growing in the long grass. Domino went troppo (Aussie word for crazy), running around in circles and chasing Willow, Mrs Wonderful’s dog.

Mrs Wonderful showed me the trailer for the wedding video of her daughter’s, and now son and law’s, wedding, which we attended a few weeks’ ago. It was magical. I teased her that before long she’d be a grandmother.

This got me thinking about the conception of my own children. I had always wanted to be a mother. I assumed it would happen without mishap. In the first years of marriage I was far too preoccupied with my career to consider the prospect. I made the decision that we would start a family when I turned thirty. I put the idea on a shelf until that date.

My thirtieth birthday arrived. I was in Rome with Geoff and our friends Greg and Marybeth Hopp. Greg was the hotshot lawyer who worked for the Chicago law firm Justin Codrai, my boss, had engaged to work on behalf of our London clients. At midnight I stepped into the Trevi fountain and kissed Geoff as I slipped into a new decade. It was time to have little Wilmots.

But it didn’t happen. At first I wasn’t concerned. The doctor said it often took time. As the months rolled on, I became slightly hysterical. Then Geoff turned 40. We had a party at Stone House to mark the occasion. Now the pressure of time felt like it was bearing down on us both. At one lunch with his parents at Stone House, I overheard an African guest say to Tony, my father in law, “Why does Geoff not have children, for he is old?” Family is everything to Africans, being the equivalent to status and wealth. I felt gutted. And a failure.

Around this time Geoff and I met a lovely couple, Jim and Emma, and they were also planning to start a family. We became firm friends. We often saw them at church. Just after my 31^st birthday in May 1993, I was due to meet Emma for lunch in the City, as she was a banker. I had found out that morning (at work where I did the test in the Ladies) that I was I was going to be a mother! I was euphoric, but I was dreading telling Emma. After eating our sandwiches in a pretty churchyard off Eastcheap, Emma said, “I have something to tell you. I’m pregnant. I hope you are not upset.” I replied, with a huge grin, “I am too.”

Nine months later, Emma gave birth to Isabella, and shortly after, I gave birth to Anna. Two little chubby, blonde angels. They were both worth waiting for.

Today I have a charity lunch at Steep, near where my country tennis club is.