My brother and I were ill treated when we were in our birth family. Running away from home was a regular occurrence. When I was twelve and my brother eleven we told the police that we didn’t want to go home. We were given social workers and sent to an assessment centre for two weeks. We were found a place in Preston. Having never left Manchester it seemed like we were going to the other end of the world. I remember being picked up on a Friday and driven to Preston where we were told we would be living in the Harris Children’s Home. Upon arrival it was pouring with rain and dark. I wondered what we had got ourselves into. All we had on us were purple suits and in our bags were purple pyjamas. That was it! We were told it would be our home until we were eighteen. The house we lived in was called Ashley and our house parents were called Kath and Tom Smyth. Their own children, Graham and Jenny lived with us too. Altogether there were fifteen to eighteen in the house at one time.

In the Harris grounds there were ten houses, a laundry, a storeroom, an office, the Harris school and a big hall. Each house had house parents and there was the Governor and the Governess who controlled everything. Coming from a very poor home we couldn’t believe how much food and clothes we received. We were never hungry from that day on.

We used to get £1.75 pocket money a week. Kath, the house parent, completed a rota for all the children in the house, which we had to do; otherwise she made us feel guilty. There were no dishwashers then, so you can imagine how long it took to wash up and dry for 15 to 18 people. My brother and I attended Fulwood High School. First thing in the morning we had to go to the Governors office and he would chat to us. Then the girls would walk down Queens Drive and the boys down Kings Drive. We were not allowed to mix. If we got caught kissing a girl we would not have been allowed out for weeks.

On Sundays we gathered outside the Governors house. We had to walk down to Fulwood Methodist Church (most of us reluctantly). I remember we were given 2p each to put in the collection. Most of the money stayed in the pockets of the children and they pretended to put it in the collection. I remember going to the front of the Church as there were four of five benches reserved specially for the Harris Children’s Home.

In the Harris you were not encouraged to do well at school. In most classes I just messed around or fell asleep.

Holidays were brilliant we used to go to Silverdale. The Harris had a big hall where about 50 to 60 of us used to go for two to three weeks. We went on trips everyday including swimming trips to Arnside. We slept on mats on the floor. I wasn’t very sporty but I was encouraged to try many things including football and tennis. You name it, we did it.

Whenever we needed clothes we had to go and see the seamstress. She would measure us up and in a few days we got a shirt or some trousers. She worked on her own in a little room in the Harris grounds, I don’t know how she managed it with all those children. She was always nice.

When I started work on Saturdays I saved up and bought some hens and rabbits and used to sell them to make some money.

Christmas was really good. We would perform in plays for friends and families. On Christmas day we would get up early and go and open our Christmas presents. All of the presents were donated from local families and business. The only problem was that the presents were already wrapped up so nobody knew what was in them. This meant that you could get anything from a doll to a go-cart.

I left school when I was sixteen and started working full-time at Dewhursts the butchers in Orchard Street Preston. I worked there for one year before working at J.Bamber and Sons where I have been ever since.

I had a brilliant life in the Harris Children’s home and still see a lot of the children from there. My house parents attended my wedding last July at the Harris Conference centre.