Biography
I was born in 1967 to my teenage parents, my mother used to enjoy telling me that if abortion had been legal me and my sister wouldn’t exist and that we ruined her life. She was 18 when I was born, my father a year younger at 17. When my sister came along 2 years later, my mother had decided that she didn’t want to be with my father anymore and she didn’t want her children either, but she didn’t want to let my father have “her” children, so in 1969 my sister and I were unceremoniously dumped at a children’s home in London city centre.
There was nothing my father could do as an unmarried (Irish immigrant) single man he was not entitled to have custody of his own children.
He followed my mother every step of the way begging her not to abandon us, his pleading and begging falling on deaf ears. She handed us over at the door and took off running down the road, leaving my broken hearted father breaking down in the middle of the street not quite believing that she could be so heartless and cruel.
My father and I would not set eyes on each other again until 2017 when I was 50 years old.
1969 – 1972
When my sister and I were left at the children’s home we were separated, I was in the toddler room and she was in the baby room, every chance I got I was in the baby room looking for my little sister, I was caught often and usually received a few slaps for my trouble, I’ve been told that I carried on doing it for months before I gave up, especially at night when I would be found curled up under her cot.
Another strong memory was my birthday either 3rd or 4th not really sure because I had no way of telling how much time had passed but I do know that I left before my 5th birthday. There was going to be a birthday tea and I was sat at the table with all the other children and there was cake, it might have been mine or it might have been a joint one, all I remember for sure is it was my birthday. Two of the older girls were scooping cream with their fingers and eating it, one of them gave me a scoop of the cream and it was delicious. The next thing I knew there was an adult yelling and screaming “who’s been at that cake?” The two older girls pointed at me, the next thing I knew I was pulled from my chair and being shaken like a rag doll, being told I was all kinds of ungrateful and selfish and I’d ruined the day for everyone. I was to get to bed and I wasn’t having any of the tea. I can’t even remember if I was upset about not getting the tea, all I remember was a cane or a strap lashing my across the back of my legs as I tried to get up the stairs as fast as I could so the lashes would stop. So yeah happy birthday Kiddo.
I still get triggered when I’m out and parents are berating thir kids while they cry telling them they’ve spoilt the day blah blah blah, I just want to pick them up and hug them and tell them it’s not their fault but all I can do is shoot the parents filthy looks and hope they feel guilty, but they don’t.
There’s a funny story I used to tell, about the time when I was about 4 years old when my mother and step dad left me alone with my sister who was 18 mths younger than me. The story is that they went out for fish and chips. I was left with my sleeping sister to wait for them to come back.
Home Alone
After a while she was awake and fussing crying and crying so I found her some medicine and gave her some but it didn’t work she just cried more. My parents came back and to their horror the medicine was actually some kind of furniture polish. Chips forgotten an ambulance was called and we rushed to hospital for my little sisters stomach to be pumped.
I then managed to give them the slip and wandered off and was missing for hours. I was found in a children’s ward somewhere fast asleep on top of a rocking horse.
I always repeated this story with much laughter and hilarity and I actually remember the “medicine bottle”.
Now though, I realise it actually isn’t a funny story at all …
