I want to tell you a story. Its a good one, but it starts off pretty sad but I promise you it has a happy ending so please stay with me!

We have to go back to when I was 11 years old and the summer of 1992. I was a few months away from starting senior school and that night I’d been left to babysit for the first time. My mum had to work a night shift, and dad had been working a late shift and would be home later that evening. It was only for a few hours but at that time it was a big deal to me. My mum fed us, put my brother to bed and left me some film from the video library to watch (a western I think.) I was tired and wanted to sleep but I wanted to stay awake to see my dad and show him I’d done a good job that they could trust me to babysit again. Dad crept into my room, said good night and give me a kiss and left me to go to bed. It was the last time I’d ever see him.

That mornng I awoke to discover my dad had tried to kill himself, I’ll never forget finding the note and the horrible low I felt, its cliched but I really felt like ‘d be punched in the stomach. I didn’t think I could feel any worse, but sadly I was wrong, that was to come when mum had to tell me and my brother that evening that my dad had died. I would never wish that moment on anyone.

For weeks I felt a whole spectrum of emotion, sadness, numb, guilt, anger, denial, confusion, I went through the lot. No child should have to go through that and as the eldest I felt some obligation to be there for mum, so bullshit machoness that I need to be the head of the family. I wasn’t ready for any of this, I couldn cope. Luckily I didn’t have to.

I’m from the great city of Gloucester and as well as boasting the best rugby team, at this time it was also the start of a charity called Winston’s Wish. It looks after and counsel’s children who’ve lost a loved one. Myself and my brother, where some of the first children to go through the scheme and without it.