There are, I believe some basic rules in life. Children like sweets and Disney films. Football teams should always win home games. Only grandmas like the brown meat on a turkey leg at Christmas, and top of my list is that children need and deserve heroes/heroines.

Every child needs a hero to look up to and that hero should be mum and/or dad. It’s not much to ask, being a child can be a lonely and vulnerable place to be. Yes there are lots of good things out there for children these days but without a hero it can seem like a very lonely and fearsome world. That’s why children have mums and dads so they can be heroes to protect and guide them in times of need.

However, as with all rules, heroes have to meet a minimum level criterion to make the grade. It is not just any old mum and dad that can qualify. The criteria require a parent to “be somebody you can look up to,” to be capable of earning the respect of the child and to be able to chase after the beasts, club them over the head and bring them back to the cave to roast for dinner.

Ok, so we don’t club beasts over the head any more (not least because of animal rights) but the parent needs to be able to “bring home the bacon, “ be a “bread winner” and “deliver the lolly”. Any parent unable to do this risks the free fall into the abyss of parenthood. Clearly this doesn’t apply to single mums and dads bringing up kids on their own, nor does the brutality of the rule apply to mums and dads actively involved in child rearing who choose not to work. No, this rule applies solely to the mums and dads who have chosen to work (through either aspiration or necessity) and then having thrown their hat in the ring and made themselves available for work find that they are “downsized” “right sized” “laid off” or worse still “texted to say – don’t come in again.” Being unable to work – when you want to, being rejected and no longer able to earn or to be needed and valued by an employer is devastating.

My dad was a plumber and I can remember when I was 10 my dad coming home one day with his P45 and standing by the kitchen sink with my mum as they shared tears wondering what he would do after 27 years with the same company came to an end. I was sure my dad would sort it out because he was my hero and he had an answer for everything and could fix anything and unblock any drain. It was strange to see him at home, no longer dressed in dirty work clothes. No longer rolling cigarettes in the morning to keep him going throughout the day. There were no more stories at teatime of the people he had met and the jokes they had shared. He still woke at 6.30am and readied himself – but with nowhere to go. He muttered about standing in the dole queue and signing on – when all he wanted was the chance to fix a drainpipe. He stopped going for his Sunday lunchtime drink at the social club - uncomfortable at the thought of spending his weekly allowance or meeting the other unemployed people. The bounce went, the jokes drifted away even the nicotine on his fingers started to wear off. The days turned to weeks and the weeks to months. And when we stopped having a “chippy tea” on a Friday night I knew things were bad.

I was confused. At 10 years of age I couldn’t understand why my dad was at home, I couldn’t spell economics never mind tell you what it was. My dad was my hero; I adored all that he stood for. He was fair, loyal, hard working, honest and talented – why wasn’t he at work?

Luckily my dad did find a job and our world returned to normal – just like the Little House on the Prairie. But what if he hadn’t found work, what if the couple of months had dragged on to six months or years? Would I have lost my hero, would I have started to question him, ask him the awkward questions, discount my respect, look elsewhere for wisdom, cut job adverts our for him, treat him as invisible at tea time, avoid the question at school when people ask “what does you dad do for a living” or tell lies, “my dad is Batman”. Would he catch the glimpse of dissent, would he stop wanting to work, would he start to blame others for his situation, would he assert himself to regain the lost ground, or would he simply give up and drift.

Why have I taken us both on this journey of reflection? Well when I watch the news and I see all those mums and dads loosing their jobs and you watch them going home to break the news, I just hope they are able to meet and work with people like you at A4e. Because you will not only pick them up, treat them with respect, make no judgements, charge no fees, listen carefully and share their pain. You have the magic dust that not only gets them a job, but also gives children everywhere their heroes and heroines back. Your work saves families, gives children someone to look up to and gives mums and dads a lifeline.

Thanks for everything you do, everyday, in every little way.

Roy