I’m the third eldest of a family of six children. The only thing Dad wanted was a daughter; my two elder brothers were both called Patricia before they were born!  I remember that from about the age of seven I didn’t want to be me.  I hated my name and I wanted to be a boy! I loved to play with my brothers and do all the things that boys did. But my Dad wanted me to be girly and I wanted to please him.

I had a best friend called Wendy. I heard my mum saying once that everyone thought Wendy was pretty and I was plain. Plain to me meant that people didn’t like me. I began to think that I wasn’t worth much; I was just “plain old Patricia”. How could I make people like me? I thought if I became like Wendy then people would like me. So I started copying everything about her; I didn’t realise I was doing it. It’s only as I’ve looked back over my life that I see it.

Apart from the fact my dad wanted me to be a typical girl he also felt that education was very important and that success in life depended on it, probably because he was brought up to believe that, and so I always wanted to do well at school because it made Dad happy – and I did enjoy school. I knew when I did well I was, as it appeared to me then, loved more. I tried to be everything my Dad wanted me to be. When it was my birthday or Christmas Dad would buy me an encyclopaedia or the latest dictionary. I really wanted the latest “Famous Five” adventure books, but I would never let on. I let Dad think I was always pleased with the book he bought me.

I was never allowed to give my opinion and I was never asked for it – “children should be seen and not heard” –if I did ever venture to say anything I was usually laughed at or told to be quiet. So I grew up deciding to just be quiet; I became painfully shy.  Don’t get me wrong; I don’t blame my parents for anything. They brought me up in the best way they knew how, and they felt it was right.