My memories of growing up in South Wales shape my writing

I was born in a small mining village where life was hard and luxuries were non-existent. My father and grandfather, both miners, were lost before their time. The dust, the miners called it. Pneumoconiosis should have been on their death certificates, but it wasn’t.

For many, the only choice was the pit or the factory. I didn’t want either. Education became my way out — my saviour.

At university I studied history, economics, and psychology, supporting myself with shifts in coal yards, factories, and on production lines. That work taught me respect for those who endure it, and made me determined to find another path.

I went on to build a business career that lasted almost five decades and took me around the world, working with leaders at the top of the corporate ladder — some generous and inspiring, others driven by power and greed. Those years showed me how systems shape lives, how stories influence decisions, and how easily the voices of the overlooked are drowned out.

Now I live quietly in Snowdonia, writing fiction and essays rooted in memory and lived experience, and exploring the landscape with my camera. As I grow older, my hunger for knowledge and my curiosity burn more brightly than ever.

This is my way of staying present — and human — in a world that too often forgets what really matters.