I am the granddaughter of a Welsh coal miner who was determined that his kids get out of the mines. My dad got his first job when he was six years old in a little village in Wales called Nantyffyllon cleaning bottles at the Colliers Arms.

My dad works in child protection and he's spent many many years in that line of work.

I have one brother John an airline pilot who is seven years younger. He's adopted though we're still blood related - he's my cousin. My parents couldn't have any more children after me so when Dad's brother died they adopted John then just a baby.

I'm not an American but I have this weird connection to America in different ways through my dad living here for five years my godfather being an American who I'm very close to.

I say this as a young dad seeing children going into primary school: I don't think we should underestimate the formative effect on a child of those first years in primary school.

When I moved out of London 13 years ago I found a whole other reason not to drive. This was because my new husband Dan unlike my dad did drive and this became a great source of fun and adventure.

The only day I remember of my parents' marriage was the day my dad walked out. As I stood there at five years old with my older sister and younger brother I knew that he was gone.

I came back from university thinking I knew all about politics and racism not knowing my dad had been one of the youngest-serving Labour councillors in the town and had refused to work in South Africa years ago because of the situation there. And he's never mentioned it - you just find out. That's a real man to me. A sleeping lion.

Well my dad was the district attorney of New Orleans for about 30 years.

My dad was the district attorney of New Orleans for about 30 years. And when he opened his campaign headquarters back in the early '70s when I was 5 years old my mother wanted me to play the national anthem. And they got an upright piano on the back of a flatbed truck and I played it.