As I watch my son Jonny making a Lego dinosaur or flying his toy plane, he’s happy and carefree, just as he should be at four years old. He only knows a little about his story right now, but he’ll grow up knowing he can ask anything he wants. I’ll encourage him to be open, talk, then talk some more.
When I was a teenager, on fun nights out with friends, we wouldn’t worry about catching the last bus, or the next day’s hangover, saying: ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ I found out at 20, when my beloved dad Tony died. He had lung cancer, but he and my mum, Pam, had shielded me, their only child. Through my shock, I couldn’t bear to see Mum in such terrible…
