I was born in Grangetown, in what was an old, run-down part of Cardiff in 1926. When I was young I loved physics and chemistry at school and wanted to go to university to become a scientist. In those days many parents thought it was a waste for a girl to have an education as she would marry and have children. Anyway, the second world war came, my school was bombed and I had to start work aged 14 in a flour mill.
What did I do for a living? Everything. I was a self-taught shorthand typist so worked in insurance and banking while the men were at war. I was a hotel receptionist in Bournemouth, then went back to Cardiff and was secretary to the divisional chairman of the National Coal Board. I left when he retired and I started work as a policewoman in 1950. After having my son, Howard (pictured with me), I worked for a solicitor’s office, in local government and then as a welfare officer/social worker for 30 years. I eventually left to care for my elderly parents, who died in 1993, and Howard. He is autistic, I have Asperger’s, and we live together. I now have a freelance writing career for Carers UK when they want something funny to cheer up a local newsletter. I also try to write short, sharp emails to make people laugh. I feel we need to laugh with so much tragedy in the world.
Howard was not allowed to attend school until he could speak. Despite medical experts telling me he was a “write-off”, he graduated from university in computer studies. We went to college together and this is where I received student vouchers towards newspapers. I bought as many as I could and the Guardian became my favourite. My alter ego is Polly Toynbee.
Howard does not read newspapers, but I pick out the pages which I know interest him – for example railways, as he is a transport enthusiast. I love the Observer but usually cannot afford it.
I cannot walk far these days but keep active. We are friends with a local cafe, which saves the newspapers for us, and others. They all like a laugh, though all have been through hard times. When I retired I thought I’d done my whack – that’s it. Famous last words. I still get caught up with people who need help. It keeps you going. I used to be the carer, but more and more these days it seems that Howard takes care of me! He has become so kind, caring and affectionate. I am lucky.
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