The years go by and each one of them holds at least two days of significance; the date of his birth and the anniversary of his death. I dread both of them coming up but often the anticipation is worse than the actual day. Tosh was born on the 30th November 1983 so this year he would have been forty — I cannot imagine him being that old.
One of the first things that happened on the morning of his birthday this year was that a newsflash popped up on my phone to say that Shane MacGowan from The Pogues had died. I immediately smiled — an odd thing to do you might think but Tosh was a massive Pogues fan and somehow I found the news comforting.
Recently, Geoff and were clearing out books and inside one of them I found the scribbled notes I made about Thomas’s birth just after he was born. They were written, in pencil, on flimsy paper and it’s amazing that they’ve survived. It was strange to read them all these years later.
We left for the hospital around 5am on a very cold and frosty morning (where have I heard that before? ) I’ve adapted some of those notes I found for you to read here:
I am checked by a nurse/midwife when I first get to the hospital, in the very early hours and I am told nothing much is happening. A few hours later I am checked again and apparently now I am 5 centimetres dilated.
‘Still not much happening,’ the nurse said.
That was around 10 o’clock in the morning. By 11.00 I’m getting edgy, the pains are really strong and I’m sure the baby’s almost here, but they won’t check me again,.
The bossy nurse speaks again, ‘We only check every four hours.’ She scares me because that means they won’t check until two o’clock! Surely, she expects me to have the baby before then! At 11.30 I’m desperate, I make such a fuss she concedes. Then, muttering under her breath, she proceeds to check me once more.
‘Right,’ she says, ‘we’re ready.’ As though she knew that I would be all along. It’s 11.45. Suddenly it’s all panic and they quickly wheel me , on the bed, into the delivery room where it’s go, go, go.
No need for too much detail here it’s all pushing and pulling etc.,
At 12.29 the midwife says, ‘You have a lovely big boy.’
I look at him on the bed and he looks me straight in the eye. I am speechless. Then I say to my husband, ‘he doesn’t look like a Thomas, Anthony or George . The midwife hands him to me.
He feels heavy, he is wide eyed and looking around his new environment. It is a miracle.
We did call him Thomas Anthony George, Thomas because we loved the name, Anthony after my brother and George because it was a good English name, according to his father. His initials, T.A.G. turned out to be appropriate for a graffiti artist.
30th November 1983 was a Wednesday. You know the poem?
Wednesday’s Child was full of woe. . .This mad me very sad when I read it because Tosh was a really happy, smiley little boy and grew into a lovely, handsome and compassionate young man. So many people said good things about him at his remembrance service in Bristol in January 2011. His boss from the catering company in Cardiff for example said that when walking through Cardiff Tosh would never ignore anyone destitute, sitting on the pavement, but always had a word for them and a spare bit of cash. He said, ‘It didn’t matter to Tom what their background was or who they were , he would always stop and speak to them.’
What did we do to celebrate Tosh’s 40th birthday this year? I gave a reading and a talk about him and for him in Waterstones Bridport. I set up a just giving page for Julian House and we’ve raised £352 so far. The fundraising is still active so if you feel you could give something towards it that would be wonderful. I know Tosh would highly approve of helping the homeless, especially at this time of the year. The link is HERE
The next significant day for me is the 14th January 2024 and it will be thirteen years since we lost Tosh. Unbelievable. On the 12th July 2024 it will be thirteen and half years. . . half his lifetime. . . . ❤️
Ninette Hartley Writer 