My name is Shelagh, I’m 36 and I live in Inverness, Scotland.

I was born, however, in Vancouver, Canada and for most of my adult life I have wanted to go back there. The biggest reason for this is the fact that my family, and in particular my father, live there.

So how am I in Scotland, I hear you ask. Well, my mother was a Canadian by birth but had an English father and chronic itchy feet. These two things combined meant that when I was 11 she moved us across the water, without my father’s knowledge. In all it would be 14 years before I knew where my dad was.

In January of 1990, I got in contact with the Salvation Army in London to see if they could give me some advice as to how to trace my dad. I was told then that it would be easier if my father was tracing me, but would I phone back at the end of the week to speak to the person who handled family reunions. I tried calling back but I couldn’t get through because there had been big storms and the phone lines were knocked out.

Unbeknownst to me, sitting in that very man’s office, was a letter from my dad. He had had the same idea, and had forwarded all his details in the hope that they could find me. Good old Sally Army. Within a week of my failed phone call that same letter arrived on my doorstep – would I be interested in contacting my long lost father. Would I??

With shaking hands I called the number and asked to speak to Jerry. I said ‘it’s Shelagh. I’m your daughter.’

Since 1990 I have been able to physically hug my father three times. In 1996 he became ill with lung cancer and after effecting what I consider a miraculous recovery, I scraped up what little money I had to pay for him to spend that Christmas with us. I think it was the best Christmas either of us have had – so far. We have an incredibly close bond, and the separation is hard at the best of times – and this is far from that.

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