40 years ago this week, I landed in the UK, alone, still only 18, with my life packed into a small, battered suitcase. I had no plan, just a promise to keep as many miles as possible between me and my parents. (Thread) 1/

It was a rubbish time to come to England to try your luck. This was Thatcher’s Britain, with millions out of work. I spoke poor English and had no qualifications after dropping out of school. 2/

But I hustled my way into jobs, stacking shelves, clearing gardens and working in a print shop. I lived in digs with the sweetest, older couple who treated me with kindness. I even returned briefly to school. 3/

I began writing for the local paper, the Hayling Islander, covering golden wedding anniversaries and fetes. I got around town on an old red postie’s bike held together with wire and sticky tape. Then another local paper offered me an actual job. 4/

Eventually, I blagged my way into The Times. I expected to last just a few months before being found out, but ended up staying for almost 25 years. 5/

My greatest fortune was meeting some amazing people early on, including my wife-to-be. She was there when I couldn’t afford to pay the rent and or find work. But she has always believed in me. 6/

She is by my side now, mum to two daughters, a grandmother and a ’mum’ to 20 foster children, most of whom are still part of our large, rumbustious family. 7/

I realise this is a shit time to be young and uncertain. These days remind me of when I pitched up here, all those years ago, overwhelmed at times by what the future may hold. 8/

I know that one day you too will look back, with no small amount of wonder, and see how it all panned out for you and your loved ones. FWIW, my advice is to find people you can trust and love, and keep plugging away at what you believe. 9/

Stay true to yourself. But if you can’t, remember that you can always find your way back. And don't take no for an answer. 10/ends

Just found this photo of me, taken not long after I arrived. Surprised they let me in...