At infant school, I discovered a love of both reading and writing; I seemed to have some sort of aptitude – stars appeared regularly on my work, sometimes gold. 

I decided to be an author.

Having passed the Eleven-Plus, I somehow found myself attending a “technical high school” where English – in fact all the humanities – were very much seen as the preserve of those unable to cope with the academic rigours of science.

Anyone with a backbone wouldn’t have let this influence them, but I didn’t want to be thought stupid, so cast aside my dreams, studied the sciences …and made a complete and utter balls of my A-Levels…

I entered the university clearing process, hoping that somewhere – preferably an Oxbridge college – would rescue me. Unfortunately this did not happen and I ended up at Huddersfield Polytechnic studying hospitality management.

How exactly this happened is another mystery: I had never worked in the industry; I could not cook and I had what my father called “a chip on my shoulder” when it came to serving people.

I won no prizes, but did manage to graduate.

The first few years of my career were not a triumph; I hated the work, the hours, the customers – everything, really. 

Disaster loomed – but then, ironically, I was rescued by science.

While I wasn’t looking, catering had become a bit more scientific and so the little knowledge I had managed to acquire suddenly made me a marketable commodity – so much so that I soon found myself teaching at a university.

To my surprise, I found that I loved the job – and spent the next twenty-five years or so standing up in front of classes, writing and doing research. However, as is the case with many teachers, the pressure of the job eventually took its toll and, to save what was left of my sanity, I took early retirement in order to see out my remaining years as a writer of both fiction and non-fiction… 

I am currently undertaking an MA in Creative Writing at the University of Hull.