In 1948, aged seven, I was nearly blind, and had a very serious operation followed by two years of visits, three times per week, to the Western Ophthalmic Hospital in London, visits which took the whole day.

The result of this was that, in 1951, at the age of ten, I was over a year adrift in my learning and approaching the dreaded eleven plus without hope of a pass.

My teacher was a rather stern and forbidding lady, Mrs Crane, who called my mother in to school and told her that I "could, and would, pass that exam".

For the whole of that year, she gave up her lunch breaks, an extra hour after school every day and two hours every Saturday at my home.

She even gave me lessons through the final summer break, and when the exam results came in and I had won a scholarship to one of the three top grammar schools in London, she was jumping up and down in pure delight.

Every other child in the school was a bit in awe of her, but I adored her, and whatever success I have had in life, I owe to her dedication and belief in my abilities. I went back to visit only once and never found out what happened in her life, which is one of my abiding regrets.

Don T.