Gloria Hunniford: My family values

I was born on my sister’s birthday in 1940. Lena was seven years older than me. My brother, Charles, seven years younger. When we started learning about sex, we’d say, “Gosh, our parents only did it every seven years!” We grew up in Portadown, Northern Ireland. While I shared a bed with my sister, my brother slept in a single bed in my parents’ room. Sadly, Lena died a couple of years ago, but Charles helps to run the Caron Keating Foundation, a charity we founded in Caron’s memory [Gloria’s daughter Caron died of breast cancer in 2004].

My father was head of the household and a big disciplinarian, but not physically – he never hit me. He was magical in every sense of the word, and not only a great dad but a very talented man. It seemed he could do anything, including writing poetry and painting. An advertising manager by day, he was a part-time magician in the evening. In fact, he was a member of the Magic Circle. My favourite trick of his was the razor-blade trick: he’d put all these blades into his mouth along with a rolled-up ball of thread and draw them out on a string.

Mum was the home-maker, partly because my dad declared, “No wife of mine will ever work.” She was a wonderful cook; I inherited her love of cooking, although I’m not nearly as good. Her cake tins were always full of delicious temptations. Now I only have to smell bread in a bakery and I’m right back in her kitchen.

A philosophy of my mum’s has stood the test of time. If ever I had an argument with a friend, she’d ask, “Is there anything you can do about it? Can you mend it or apologise? If you can, do it, don’t leave any stone unturned. If it’s out of your control, let it go – it’s negative energy.” I follow her advice today. Her other lovely phrase was, “In life, you should always buy a good pair of shoes and a decent bed because if you’re not in one, you’re in the other.”

I’ll never get over losing Caron. It’s impossible to get over the death of your child because it leaves such a big hole. After she died, I received thousands of letters from well-wishers – I stopped counting at 8,000. One woman, who’d also lost a child, wrote, “I’d like to say it will get better, but it won’t. But eventually you’ll learn to live around it and through it.” She was right. You live around the big black hole and learn to cope. Ultimately, you have to pull yourself together for the rest of your family. It’s hard to believe it’s 10 years since she died. I still think of her countless times each day.

Being a grandmother is one of the most joyous things that could have happened to me. I’m at my happiest surrounded by my four grandchildren [Charlie, 19, Jake, 18, Gabriel, 17, Beau, 16]. I’ve loved all stages of being a grandparent, and we still holiday together. Those times are perfect because I know that when I say goodnight to them, I’ll see them again in the morning.

I feel lucky to have come from a well-grounded, loving and tactile family. The sense of love and security experienced during my upbringing is something I tried to pass on. My parents left me in no doubt that I was loved and I always wanted my family to know they’re loved, appreciated and admired. Caron would have realised that, because we were very vocal and tactile regarding our affections. Showing your love is a great gift to give to any child.