He had heard the rumours. His own parents had been telling him all week that he was going to meet the real Thomas soon.
‘Don’t be silly mama and dada’, he laughed. ‘I see the real Thomas every day. He lives in my toy box, and inside the TV’.
Finally, the day came. Arlo, mama, dada, grandma and grandad, and uncle Chris all loaded into the car. ‘We shall see’, thought Arlo to himself.
They soon arrived at a place called Tunbridge Wells. ‘So, this is where the big T lives, is it?’, Arlo eyed the place with suspicion. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s in my rucksack, where I left him for safekeeping’.
‘No, no, no’ he said as they approached the trains. ‘Can it be true?!’.
All the engines were peep peeping and toot tooting at him, he didn’t quite know what to say in return.
The REAL Thomas.
Now he understood.
He was very quite on the way home. ‘Just think, a world where Thomas exists outside of my house, with hundreds of other children all clutching their Thomas’s, just like I do.
Next thing I know, I’ll probably be riding the Ninky Nonk at the o2.’