Life Story

Wednesday 2nd March 1983.1

Sally was baking cakes just before lunch for her two children, Robert (14) and Lynn (11) for when they returned home from school. Suddenly she felt an urge to go to the toilet, and only just made it to the toilet before her waters broke... 2

Oh dear...3

She made her way with haste to the phone to call her husband Keith.4

"It's coming!"5

Keith arrived a short while later, and drove Sally to Fant Lane Hospital in Maidstone, where they waited for around 6 painstaking hours for the birth of their 3rd child.6

At 8:30pm out I came, grumpy and "as hot as a furness" my dear old Dad described. The sweat was pouring off him as the midwife attended to my exhausted Mum.7

Well, the only name they had picked out for me was a boys name, so right from the start I scuppered their plans! They decided on the name Hayley Jane.8

Little did they know what they had let themselves in for...9

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Apparently I wasn't "a baby baby" according to my Mum... I think that was just her polite way of telling me I was a huge bugger! It still scares me to think that the doctor told my Mum she may have been having twins after her first scan. However saying this it makes me chuckle to think how my Dad reacted.11

I was pretty normal as a kid actually, considering the type of childhood some children have. My Dad went to work at a local builders merchants, My brother went to college, my sister was at school and chasing boys and running fan clubs for the local radio DJ's in her spare time and my Mum stayed home with me.12

When I was two I made my first friend... in the form of my first pet, a black and white, border collie X Labrador called Patch. My Dad has always liked dogs, and when my brother returned from his part time job one evening to discover someone had tried to force the front door, my Dad immediately set about finding a guard dog. 13

I remember going out to a farm somewhere with him... It must be my earliest memory, I remember sitting in the car and peering out the window to see my Dad talk to this guy with lots of dogs!14

Patch was the last left of a litter, and luckily, the only one my Dad wanted. In my own little way I helped train Patch. My Dad would take him out into the garden to teach him basic commands like sit, lay down etc. Much to my embarrassment now, I took part too, by sitting and laying down in the correct places, my Mum said I would end up in fits of giggles but it must have done something... Patch was the most well trained dog I have ever met! He was also a walking dustbin! Anything food related that hit the floor was gone before you could look round and find it. We returned from a day out one day to find that he'd eaten a dozen eggs that had been left on the kitchen side - shells and all! He was so intelligent and knew what he had done was bad as he shook in the corner looking very sorry for himself.15

For the first three years of my life, I spent the majority of the time with my Mum. She was fantastic at finding things for me to do and keeping me amused. She would do painting with me, take me to the park... Wednesday was food shopping day and she'd settle me in the trolley gnawing on one of the first things she picked up - the end of a french stick! 16

Aged 3 I started playschool at the local parish church - St Phillips. This church was to feature heavily in my life in the next few years. The church hall was at the back of the small church and at the back of that was an old wooden door which led into a storage room where all the toys were kept. We would learn songs, dress up, and do a nativity play each year in the church. I was always chosen to be an angel, although like every girl, I was desperate to be Mary! It was here that I met my first human friend - Ryan.17

Ryan lived down the road from me. I always used to think it funny that I lived at number 35 and he lived at number 53. He had an older brother who had Down syndrome who was a lot bigger then both of us. I was always quite wary of him, but did my best to be nice, share etc. One day he hit me with a toy and I had a huge nose bleed. Ryan's Mum, Jane did her best to get the blood out of my T shirt before my mum picked me up.18

I didn't know it at the time, but Ryan had Duchennes muscular dystrophy. He was a small boy, and quite slow at running, but I never really saw him different from any one else I knew growing up. Duchenne's primarily affects boys and is a life limiting condition, and in recent years I had feared that he may have passed away. My Mum called the other night to tell me she had seen him and his family in the local paper reciving an award. It made my day a million times over to know that he was ok.19

Being from a small town, a lot of the people I went to playschool with followed me through right up to secondary school. All of us lived in the same area, had the same friends and played in the same streets, park and leisure centre. It was also whilst in playschool that I met my friend Maria, now known as Maz to one and all. She and her two younger brothers moved in next door one spring day in 1986.20

Maria and I would spend many days having races up and down our long gardens, making mud pies next to the fence and generally being kids. When we started school we were in seperate classes but always met up for play time and ran about giggling, very often with Ryan too. My Mum found a job whilst I was at school looking after elderly people in the community. During school holidays I would spend each day with someone different. One day with Maria and her family, one day at work with my Dad, one day with my cousin caroline and another with either Ryan and his family or my aunt Jean.21

I loved the days spent at work with my Dad. Of course now that sort of thing would never be allowed with health and safety regulations. My Dad was warehouse manager and a very hard worker. On Tuesdays my Dad would go to work and open up and my Mum would drop me off later. As I walked up the steep concrete steps into the warehouse I was always a little apprehensive. The floor was dusty and the smell was always wonderful. The first bit into the cramped office was always lit up, but further back into the warehouse the place was in darkness. I was a little scared of the dark and rarely ventured down this area without my Dad. I couldn't reach the light switches so I'd run into the office to see my Dad. 22

There was a small desk which was battered and looked like someone had made it in a rush and some old musty smelling chairs. My Dad would sit at the chair nearest a small grill heater toasting his cheese sandwich with a small, but long pitchfork. My Dad's father would sit at the desk in the mornings. Pop and my Dad were very alike. Pop had retired but was bored at home so he would sit and man the office whilst my Dad did deliveries. He would deal with phone calls and customers coming over to collect form the warehouse. Pop always called me "duck" which I thought strange as a child. I can still hear his voice now, many years on and I hope and pray I never forget it. To me he was a kind, gentle man with snow white hair and a lovely wit and smile. He was a formidable man though. He held a lot of respect amongst family and friends, and although an old man, he was a froce to be reckoned with.