Silence doesn't sit well with me. I'm the eldest of six children, so my early years were chaotic. Every day was an adventure; the house was filled with music, laughter and chat. If I'm home alone now, I always have the telly on.
Racism was everywhere when I was a kid. Mum's parents were from Barbados, Dad was white English: mixed relationships weren't common in the late-70s. Home, in Stockport, felt safe, but away from home there'd be abuse. For a while we lived in Skem [Skelmersdale] I heard the N-word every day.
A private school scholarship changed my life. I saw how others lived, was offered opportunities and learned what's possible. We could never have afforded it even my uniform was paid for by a bursary. I was never treated differently there, though I'm not sure anyone quite understood where I was from.
My GP told me I was too young for cancer. She sent me for tests anyway, which saved my life. I was 42, fit and in my prime when I got my diagnosis. While I waited to hear how serious it was, I made a promise: if I survived, I'd tell the tale.
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