When I was much younger, and recently settled into married life, something happened that changed us forever.

Like my father before me, I married a Leeds girl, and took her across the Pennines. But I moved from Manchester to Leeds in 1976, after the birth of my middle daughter, Joanna, who was born with what we later discovered were brittle bones.

Some of you may remember the Maria Colwell case from 1973, where a child was killed by her step-father under the noses of Social Services. It made the authorities very twitchy, particularly when a child presented at A & E with unexplained fractures. In that sort of environment, my wife, aware of the suspicions of Social Services, felt in need of family support, so we moved to Leeds.

Since then Joanna has had a life we couldn’t have envisaged at that time. She went to university, has studied in New Orleans, worked in Australia – all in her wheelchair – married (to another wheelchair user), and has given us two lovely grandchildren. Oh, and she works at Leeds University too.