My family ran to a routine when I was a child. Everything had a time and a place for being done. Monday was washday, Wednesday was ironing day, Sunday was bath night (showers and constant hot water were things for the rich in those days, which we were not). Friday evenings were Thunderbirds nights.

It was the one day of the week when we were allowed to eat our tea in front of the television and when our parents were guaranteed that we would not squabble over what to watch. Thunderbirds reigned supreme. Innocent, wholesome and fun, where you knew that International Rescue would save the day – it was just a matter of how they would save the day.

Time moved on. The series ended, homework came and the days of International Rescue were nothing more than a vague memory of happy times long past. School came and went, followed by University and still the memory of Thunderbirds slept. Then, into the postgraduate world of work and other people's young children there came the marvellous inventions of video recorders, video tapes and babysitting.

Oh the unparalleled joy of putting on a Thunderbirds video for the children and seeing once again the world of Fireflash, the Mole, International Rescue and Scott Tracy. Oh those eyes. And that voice! That voice that brought back a forgotten life and a forgotten time. Who says babysitting is a chore? Not in that household.

Two decades on and I find that I am not alone. Others remember the series with kindness and also dream about the rest that we did not see. About what might have been. I am so glad there is a way to share our dreams.