I grew up in Seacroft. 2, Kentmere Crescent was my address, and my parents lived there from 1954 – 2012, when my father died. Memories... Seacroft Centre opening, the queen coming, the crappy fountain in the middle, and the market. The dark car park, where my young self and a girl from Parklands fumbled... Walking to school, St. Kevin's, daring to walk the handrail on the bridge over York Road, cricket on the village green, mass fights with Foxwood school… My wedding in 1973 at Our Lady of Good Counsel Church, my sister's wedding at St. James church in 1976. Pubs long gone: the Sovereign, the Fellmonger, the Gate, the Pathfinder (which, ironically, they knocked down to build a job centre, another pathfinder of sorts). The fields and woods I played in as a child, now housing estates and schools. Unrecognisable.

My family and my life fell apart in 2015, when my wife and I split up after 42 years together. To say I went to pieces is an understatement. Because of the split, I left with nothing and slept in my car and on my daughter’s sofa for a while, eventually getting a furnished flat. That's when loneliness and depression hits you and your confidence goes. If not for my eldest daughter, the Samaritans and a support group, I probably wouldn't have made it through that year.

I'm now estranged from my ex-wife, my youngest daughter and several of my grandchildren, plus I have a great granddaughter who, at four, has yet to meet her great grandad. I'm ever hopeful: one day. I'm grateful to my eldest daughter and her family, whom I still see regularly.

There’s no doubt that getting an allotment in 2016 was the start of my fight back to some sense of normality. It gave me an objective and a focus. As any allotmenteer will tell you, your plot is always changing. There’s always lots to do - and lots to look forward to in life.