My life fell into strangers’ hands the day my mother died. I was just six years old. My father, if I can call him that, denied paternity and left me in the street, until a neighbour took me in. From that moment on, I lived from day to day without really knowing what the outcome would be. From a kind neighbour to an aunt and then on to Barnardo’s and a few foster homes, my life took the shape of an unsettled traveller. Becoming pregnant at sixteen years old, I found myself in another institution. The outcome of this is related in my book. I met my future husband in 1963. Even though, as I stated in my book, I did not know a good thing when I saw it, we did eventually marry in 1965 and had thirty-eight years together, until he passed away in 2002. I have three daughters and three grandchildren, of whom I am extremely proud.