THE ‘family challenge’ during our weekly meetings on Zoom has become a weekly highlight.

In the first three weeks, we’ve had to recreate a famous work of art, an album cover, and a book cover. Unbelievably, I failed to win any of them.

The challenge for week four was to reproduce an iconic photograph from history, and I sensed my moment had come. In a flash of inspiration, I chose Margaret Thatcher’s famous ‘walk in the wilderness’.

It was one of the defining images of Thatcher’s time in power – as she stepped across the derelict site of an engineering works on Teesside in 1987. Thirty-three years on, it was time for this proud son of a Middlesbrough steelworker to turn himself into none other than the Iron Lady.

The Northern Echo:

A black skirt – to match my suit jacket – and a nice handbag were borrowed from my wife. Tights weren’t needed because I actually have a better set of pins than Maggie ever had. I had to make do with my own black shoes because my wife’s high heels were four sizes too small, but a blonde wig was kindly donated by a neighbour.

A warm Saturday evening was chosen for the photoshoot, so my outfit was crammed into a plastic shopping bag while I walked in t-shirt and shorts to a field behind our house to begin the miraculous transformation into Britain’s first female prime minister.

“How do I look?” I asked my wife, who was there to take the photograph.

“Fine,” she replied, comparing me to a copy of the original photograph. But then she spotted some missing details: “Oh, hang on – you need a brooch and a pearl necklace,” she declared.

And, with that, she was running back towards our house to rummage through her jewellery box, leaving me standing in the middle of a field, dressed as a posh middle-aged woman with hairy legs and man’s shoes.

I’d have probably got away with my credibility more or less intact had it not been for the couple who’d chosen the same field, and the same time, to walk their cocker spaniel.

The dog had clearly been trained to sniff out anything suspicious because it insisted on lumbering over and shoving its nose up my skirt, despite its owners calling it to heel.

“Teddy – leave!” called the man, as if I was something infectious or mongrel bitch that might lead their precious pooch astray.

“It’s a family challenge – I’m Margaret Thatcher,” I shouted over to them, as Teddy had a final sniff.

The man gave me a puzzled wave as he and his wife walked quickly on, and Teddy eventually followed.

Thankfully, my wife made it back with the pearl necklace and brooch before anyone else wandered past and the iconic picture was duly taken.

I’m delighted to announce that I was declared the winner, beating my wife’s ‘Tanks in Tiananmen Square’ and other entries that included the unveiling of the Angel of the North, Michael Jackson dangling his baby out of a window, New York construction workers having their lunch while sitting on a beam 36 storeys high, and that iconic, cheeky Athena poster of a female tennis player showing her bottom.

As Maggie said at the start of the Falklands War: "Defeat? I do not recognise the meaning of the word."

THE THINGS THEY SAY

OUR eldest son, Christopher, appears to be losing a battle of wits against his three-year-old little girl, Chloe.

He got up the other morning and found her happily sitting on the sofa, with an empty plate beside her.

“Me finished my first breakfast, Daddy,” she told him with a smile. “Me ready for second breakfast.”

Christopher felt he should make it clear that most people just have the one breakfast a day, but Chloe just frowned and then smiled: “Oh, me mean…me finished my snack, Daddy. Me ready for my breakfast now.”