In 2004 I went on a sapphire fossicking weekend out west. There was plenty of dirt, sunshine and the occasional glittering gem during the day. Once the sun went down we could either occupy ourselves shooting kangaroos and rabbits or drive forty-five minutes into town and find something more humane to do.

There's a little cinema in that town. Guess what was showing on the late session? Garfield or Thunderbirds. Guess which we chose? Garfield. It was terrible. On our way back I suggested we should have loaded shotguns. Of course, we then ran over a rabbit and I cried. Karma, I suppose.

We ventured back another night to see Thunderbirds. A vague memory sparked, something about puppets and a prissy girl skinny dipping with an old man. Shall we play 'guess that episode'? We bought the movie for our daughter and a few months later I happened to spot a Thunderbirds DVD while I was out shopping. There they were! Puppets - excuse me, marionettes. There was an odd looking bald man on the front wearing a hilarious costume. Curious, I took that bald man home and promptly fell in love with his enemies; International Rescue.

After procuring the rest of the DVDs and watching for days on end, I decided it was time to admit my addiction. Mickey had the Mouseketeers. Roger Ramjet had the American Eagles and Thunderbirds had...me? I felt so very lonely. I dialled up my internet connection and after a speedy search, there was my paradise. Fans and fiction. Can life get any better?