As with most good stories this one started long ago in a far-away place. This is my story of how my life unfolded like a road map that is somehow carefully folded to make only certain parts viewable at certain times. Then, at a magic moment the entire journey becomes exposed.My journey began in a haunted Northern England manor house 60 years ago, as my 19 year old mother gave birth to me on a cold October night. My parents lived in a tiny summer cottage with no indoor plumbing heated only with a small fireplace. Housing was hard to find after World War II and this was the best they could do. The closest medical facility was an 18th century grey stone manor house called Dilston Hall. It was used as a maternity home. This was where I lived my 1st 10 days. There were huge trees all around and not far from the main house stood the remnants of the original castle which was at one time a retreat for Henry the VIII.
This glamorous sounding beginning lead to a more typical working class childhood filled with an alcoholic father, a baby sister and eventually a divorce.
Seeing our chances of a good life, where we lived, as not too good our mother took our little savings and packed our little possessions into 2 grey suitcases. I had a doll, and my then 6 year old sister had a fine British teddy bear. 
For the 2 little girls and the brave mother there was so much adventure ahead.
