I don’t know if my real father is alive and I don’t have many memories of him. He was a bright man who worked really hard and served in the RAF as an operating-theatre technician. I last saw him in 1982, when he visited me on my return from the Falklands war and before that when I was 18. My parents didn’t get on, and it was better that they were apart.
Harold Percy Hatfield, or “Lofty” as we called him, was a fantastic man. He was my adoptive father and he bought me my first pair of rugby boots. For the first time in my life I saw my mother was happy because she chose to be with him. He cared for her and I couldn’t wish for anything more. Although I never saw him as my father, he was the male role model in my life. He died 20 years ago.
I have never been close to my three step-brothers and we don’t speak now – there’s no reason, we just don’t communicate. But I see my sister, Helen, who is a teacher.
My mother, Pauline, is hugely important to me. The fact I had a path in life and that I’ve got a social conscience in the way that I care about other people is because of her. She was a district nurse, a psychiatric nurse and a general nurse – she cared about everyone and she’s an unbelievably compassionate person. She just loved me – I can’t put it any other way. She lives 16 miles away and I see her regularly.
When I was 16, she dragged me down to the army recruitment office. Four years later, she was there for me when I returned from the Falklands with severe burn injuries. There would be times when I didn’t want anyone around me because I wanted to be alone, but she was never going to allow that to happen. Everything I am today is because of my mother, and she is the person who has kept me together.
My mother couldn’t say anything when she saw my injuries for the first time. She was in deep shock – her legs went from under her and she had to be taken away. Since then, I’ve had close to 95 operations and she’s been by my side throughout. I’m not defined by the Falklands war – I’m defined by what I’ve done since, and that’s the difference. Instances can play a huge part in your life but they don’t necessarily define what your life is and who you are. My mother made sure I was still here after what happened to me and she looked after me.
The birth of my first child, James, was so special. I was proud, excited, frightened and nervous – nervous because it was this feeling of “I’m responsible for another being’s life”. I loved every moment. It was an unconditional trust, but I had this feeling when they were all born. James, 24, is an engineer, Stuart, 21, is trying to break into the music business and Caitlin, 17, is a student.
Lucy has been a phenomenal support for me and she’s wonderful company. We’ve been married for 25 years. We met when she volunteered for my charity, Weston Spirit; then she left for America, returned six months later and we’ve been together ever since.
Different people have come into my life and they have been more influential in the way they have helped me than they realise. But the most important person who has come into my life now is my grandson, Zachary [James’s son]. He is the bane of his uncle Stuart’s life because Stuart can’t sit down and watch TV or have a cup of tea or anything without Zachary leaping all over him and dragging him off here, there and everywhere. They love each other and Stuart is his favourite toy. It’s just a joy to watch.
• Simon Weston is touring with his show My Life My Story. See simonweston.com for details
