We've been at the house of my folks today.

My family's history is steeped in toil and struggle - well at least for the last three generations - my grandfather married the serving maid (my Dad's Mum) and was unceremoniously dumped from the family and the family's tailoring business. He remained with my Grandmother, living in Wigan, where my Dad and his two siblings were born and raised until my Grandmother died when my Dad was ten.

My Grandfather didn't want his three children after the death of his wife, so Dad and Uncle Phil ended up in a children's home, the only sibling to stay with Grandad was my Auntie Vicky.

In England in the 1950s it was legal to work at the age of 15 so when my Dad reached that ripe old age he was chucked out of the home to make his own way in the world. He became a coalminer. This is not a nice job, there are no reasons why anyone should choose this profession, let alone a 15 year old boy.

He lost his job in the mines in Lancashire when they closed down and he moved South to the coalfields of Kent where he worked at Snowdown Colliery and found lodgings with my Mum's Grandparents.

My parents met, fell in love, are still together and celebrated 44 years of marriage earlier this year. BUT before they married, my Dad was involved in a pit accident and was trapped underground. My Mum was distraught having lost her Dad in similar circumstances many years earlier.

Mum persuaded Dad to leave and the rest, as they say, is history....22 years in the RAF and now an accountant.

This is Dad's lamp from his days down the pit. He keeps it in the hall at their house to remind him of his roots. I think he would be better forgetting some of them.