Sandra Gregory, 30, was led weeping from a court in Bangkok last week about to start a 25-year sentence for heroin trafficking. 'Please tell my Mum I'm sorry. I want my Mum,' she cried on her way to Lard Yao women's prison, known as the Bangkok Hilton.

Her friend, Robert Lock, also 30, found not guilty by the same court said,'I want to thank my Mum'.

That's it in a nutshell. When the chips are down and the axe hovers over one's head all thoughts turn to Mum. One might think that being 30 years old means adulthood and even the beginning of the move into the role of caring for mother. But the unbilical cord is impossible to sever in spirit form and Mum remains the focal point of refuge from the horrors of the world during childhood and well beyond.

Single Mums take the media flack these days, especially those who seem to become pregnant to rise to the top of the housing list queue. In effect all Mums are single as very few men take part in the raising of their offspring. Some men are AWOL, some divorced, some dead, some unknown and even those on site are too busy working, not working, playing games, in the pub, fishing etc to make more than a token gesture.

The anglo-saxons favour the standard, Dad, Mum, 2.4 kids, nuclear family unit. Mediterranians prefer the extended, everybody who's above ground, unit. These extended families work well unless the head honcho is called Sadam Hussein from whom family members may get holes where holes shouldn't be.

In both these grouping methods Mum's in charge in the home. And so she should be. No one else has the hormonal drive and the deep well of love and affection to cover the 24 hour working day and take all the aggro from the various family members. Mum has the Dean Richards role. Like the great number eight she is the focal point of ruck and maul, cleaning up, crushing opposition, springboarding attacks and always being on the ball.

Smart women allow their men to peacock in public knowing full well that they have the upper hand in the home, and any way who wants to display in public the peckerlessness of one's partner. This works well as the male, all so easily flattered, walks tall in the gaze of at least one fan. Any bickering or subliminal gouging lowers observers estimation of both parties, not just the one in the wrong. But interesting games can be played by Mum having a conversation with a third party at the perimeter of hearing of her partner. Words will drift in and out of his hearing and he will be forced to behave, as he will not know exactly which part of his murky past is being revealed. This may lead to aggro back home but it certainly puts spice back in the relationship and keeps both parties on their toes.

This brings into focus the perennial battle between the mother of the man and the woman in his life. These vary from a smouldering creeping underground fire that may blaze into life at unexpected times to an all out nuclear war with chemical warfare thrown in for good measure. A total standoff may ensue leaving the feeble male to pick his way through the minefield of raw emotion. As a complete contrast it nearly always follows that the reverse is true and the father of the man will like and fancy the woman, maybe out of rivalry with his son, maybe because he's a loving man.

Apart from those unfortunate females who have a child by mistake or because they wanted to keep up with all their pals, the enduring benefits of the mother child relationship are plain to see in everyday life. Cameos of care are in view on buses, trains and subways. Outside shops, inside hospitals, outside schools, inside churches, the sweet flow of motherly love is all around.

There is no doubt that 'I want my Mum.' is the most heard phrase in the world. If you don't believe me, just watch a field of new born lambs for a while.

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