In the beginning, like so many of my peers, I was often volunteered to score at my Son’s Cricket matches. I was never totally comfortable with the score book but I enjoyed it nevertheless and thought I did a pretty good job for a novice. The team coach was always appreciative and seemed pleased with my efforts, however some parents less so. I often overheard mutterings about the “quality” of the “scorers” record after the match. When I think back none of the other parents volunteered to score, despite them being dissatisfied with my efforts.

My son played less Cricket over time as his love for Rugby soon took over as his sport of choice.

I missed my Cricket but it would soon become a distant memory as my life turned a corner, never to be the same again.

My beloved brother (11 years younger than I am) and only sibling, who stood firmly by my side during my divorce and who helped me raise my Son, was taken critically ill under tragic circumstances on the 22 August 2011. He spent almost a year in Hospital. My life was about travelling between Windsor and London while juggling my home and work life in between visits.

I began to feel utterly drained of energy and all enthusiasm for life seemed futile as I stood by feeling helpless. I arrived at the Hospital one morning to be told he had suffered a significant life changing brain injury. That day I knew life would never be the same for us as a family. I was heartbroken.

Months of anguish went by and he was now in care. I spent hours with him when his carer suggested I stay away and get some much needed rest. It was then when I realised I needed to get my life back on track.