Lord, it seems that we are in the middle of a veritable plague of Down’s syndrome.

Despite 92 per cent of women who know they are pregnant with a Down’s syndrome child choosing to terminate, we can do better. It seems that 30 per cent of women aren’t being tested. Why not? Something must be done!

You must understand that all this reads rather oddly to me, but then I am in a privileged position.

My second child, Eddie, 8, has Down’s syndrome and, you know, it’s not that much of a big deal. It’s remarkably like being a parent, as a matter of fact. All you need is unconditional love.

When my wife was pregnant with Eddie, the second scan indicated that Down’s was a 50 per cent possibility. She chose not to have an amniocentesis, because the process puts the child at risk, and she had already miscarried twice.

There was absolutely no thought in her mind of a termination; Cind is stronger than most when it comes to unconditional love.

And anyway, we weren’t looking to breed designer children: we were just hoping to take the adventure life sent us.

So Eddie was born with Down’s. He had a hole in his heart, and at four months he had open-heart surgery and was brilliantly fixed.

Now he is built like a little bull and goes to school. Last term his classmates voted overwhelmingly for him to receive the Peace Prize: given to the kindest and most helpful child in class. He’s a valid, viable, useful and cherished member of his society: why on earth should he be anything else?

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