I had seven brothers and three sisters and we all lived in a four bedroom house in Shakespeare Avenue. My parents lived together and my dad worked as a painter and decorator. My mum couldn’t cope with us and, over time, eight of us went into care. I was sent away after I got into trouble with the police, and I was nicking off school as well. I always understood why I was sent away - I could see that it was all too much for my mam, and I felt sorry for her in a way - but that didn’t make it any easier. I liked my home and I liked South Bank and I was sent away from both. I went to a place called Hilton Grange, and I only came back to South Bank for holidays.

I came out of care at sixteen. The problem with being sent away is you end up feeling as though you’re at sea with no harbour more welcome to you than any other. I went off to London and worked on building sites. And then I got a job as a storeman in Watford, where I stayed for ten years. I started supplying cocaine whilst I was in Watford, and when I got caught I was given a five year sentence. After my release I came back to South Bank. In nineteen ninety nine my mum, who had become infirm, moved in with me, and I’ve been her full-time carer since then. She’s seventy two now. What I think is that, even though she wasn’t able to look after me, at least I can look after her.