Thank goodness for Roald Dahl. Thank goodness for his Fantastic Mr Fox.

Last Sunday morning I had just got in, cold and wet from a doorstep surgery in Podsmead. As I trundled upstairs to get on with some casework and policy replies to constituents my wife accosted me on the steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Work to do, then off to the Festival of Remembrance at GL1…got to pack a bag for London tomorrow…”

A searing look crossed her face. “Out!” she said and thrust some paper in to my hand. Two tickets for Cineworld at the Peel Centre. I looked at the slips of paper and read them aloud to our 3 year old. “Two tickets for The Fantastic Mr Fox.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes daddy!” came the singing and dancing response.

So off we went to the cinema for his first ever movie experience. I can happily recall the story from my own childhood. My wife and I have read it to our eldest, and thanks to initiatives like Bookstart both of our little ones are really in to books and story time before bed - although the youngest is more interested in patting books with the palms of his little hands to be honest.

So we took our seats, in the second row, popcorn in hand and some bottled water. For two hours his eyes scarcely left the screen, just a wriggle to get comfortable and then eventually he got up to find a more comfortable seat on my lap where he could sprawl out.

Although the movie is a variation on Roald Dahl’s novel, it was as enchanting as ever. Mr Fox was cunning and outwitted those nasty farmers Boggis, Bunce and Bean at every turn.

Two hours later and we emerged in to the sunlight as more contented human beings. My eldest having had his first cinema experience, and me feeling somewhat more relaxed and perhaps a little more grounded in the real world rather than the world of work. We were grateful to my wife, but most particularly grateful to Roald Dahl and to his most fantastic and stupendous, Mr Fox.

Parmjit Dhanda MP

Member of Parliament for Gloucester