The roots to grow and wings to fly

The Number 52 United Counties bus pulls out of the village of Old Duston, Northamptonshire, to take me on a journey that will change my life forever. Up until this point I had spent the first thirteen years of my life in and around Old Duston. In 1982 it was a village on the outskirts of Northampton. I lived on the corner of Berrywood Road and Main Road, and you could be in the heart of the town or country within 15 minutes in either direction. We lived in Doctor Rutherford’s House, next to the surgery. It was a detached house in its own grounds. We were very proud of the house and loved its garden. It stood on a hill at the far end of the village and within walking distance of everything that I did.

People who lived in Old Duston were proud of its heritage. The main local employer was British Timken, which had been part of the local economy since 1942, making bearings mainly for the car industry. This American owned business had a factory set in immaculate grounds with a cinder athletics track and one of the best football grounds complete with its very own stand. It felt like Wembley. Every budding athlete in the vicinity was desperate to play on the pitch and run on this track.


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