Dipping a paintbrush into the pot of bright yellow paint, I handed it to the little girl sitting next to me and smiled as she splodged it on to the paper.
‘Beautiful,’ I said to her, pegging it up with the rest of the children’s artwork. It was 1983 and, at 16 years old, I’d just started a training scheme working with children at a local nursery. My school years had been chaotic and I’d left earlier in the year with no qualifications. Brought up by my grandparents, home life was tough, and homework and exams were never a priority.
I was feeling lost, not knowing what to do with my life, so the nursery scheme had come at the perfect time. And it seemed that caring for others came naturally to sticky hands or joining other nursery workers as they cleaned up, I realised just how much I enjoyed it.
Not long after the scheme ended, I met my husband and we married in 1985, January 1987 and son in August 1990, and started school and began needing me
'I don't know what to do with myself now,' I confided in my husband. He worked in the prison service and, in January 1995, a vacancy came up for temporary prison escorts, accompanying prisoners to and from court or police stations. "You'd be great,' my husband encouraged me.
TAKING A CHANCE
I had no experience and no idea what to expect, but I took a chance and applied and was amazed when I got the job at HMP Bristol.
This story is from the February 27, 2023 edition of WOMAN'S OWN.
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This story is from the February 27, 2023 edition of WOMAN'S OWN.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
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