How it all began

I arrived at Balham maternity hospital on 29th December 1950. I understand that, at this time, both my parents were living in what they described as a 'half-way house' in London. Both parents had eloped in order to marry in London. The reason for their eloping was due to them both being blind. Mum, Brenda, from birth, whilst dad, James Hopper Nesbitt, had been partially sighted. Both his eyes were removed during his teens. He was living in Sunderland at this time with his sisters and parents.

   I cannot possibly imagine the thoughts that went through dads mind. Waking up in hospital to a world of darkness then returning home to a house where he would have to addapt. I guess bumping into doors left open or having to do the everyday things such as shaving, then going out of the house and into streets and roads that would have felt unfamiliar to him then but somehow he managed to carve out another, equally meaningful, world.  He could no longer work as a rope-runner, helping to dispose of, by then, defused bombs which had caused such terrible destruction and loss of life in Coventry.

  What was happening to my dad, was in the scheme of things, quite an insignificant happening but for dads family it must have been terrifying. An onerous responsibility to remain strong and determined when lives continued to change. I'm certain that neither his father, also called James, or his mother, Lucy Esther, couldn't have anticipated what their son would do during his lifetime.

    Dad was lucky in that he had already learnt to read braille, lessons that his loving parents had privately paid for, aware that their partially sighted sons eyes were already deteriorating. There must have many blows to the body, bruises to his face,grazed knees and constantly either tripping over things. Never mind working in the kitchen, eating,drinking and boiling pans with handles that could easily have been caught. Then there was the chosing of clothes and shaving.

  I wonder how he felt waking up to a world with lightness, the swaying of trees,clouds, featureless buildings but their were familiar people who would love him and guide him until he found his feet again and could stand proud again. It's flabergasting for me to think that, not only did he find his feet but also his independence and away from his loving family. My brave and loving dad quietly left his loving family and, with only a brown battered suitcase and the clothes on his back head for Coventry station where he caught a train to London where his life and our lives began in quite a proud way.