Pat is a valued part of The Flying Child community and has kindly shared this poem with us. (For clarity - this not the same Pat many associate with The Flying Child)

I died when I was nine. I lay on a bed and I closed my eyes. And I wished for my mother. And died . It didn’t hurt to die like it hurt to live. It was a relief.

"Standing in front of professionals responsible for creating and delivering programmes to aid prevention of child sexual abuse felt like stepping into the central cog of a machine that has been in the background in my own life for as long as I can remember. NSPCC is a name that symbolised hope during the darkest times. "