A Short Autobiography by Linda Pritchard

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I was born on 4 July 1953 in a house in St Kilda Road, London and was my parents’ second child. My brother Paul had arrived a year earlier much to the delight of my mum and dad, Joan and Robert (pictured at right). The house we lived in was quite large, which was a necessity as 12 people lived in it. My parents, brother and I lived in one room and my aunts, uncles and grandparents lived in other rooms. I’m not sure how we all managed with only one bathroom.

My grandmother had rented the house from a local homeowner, who previously had trouble leasing it to anyone else due to rumours it was haunted. As there were so many people in the house, I doubt anyone noticed the odd ghost or two. However, there was always a strange vibe in the hallway, which was where the previous tenant reportedly hanged himself.

My father Robert came from South Wales and had worked in the coal mines before moving to London to work in a large factory, where he met my mother. He was a hard-working man who taught himself engineering. Two years after I was born, the local council managed to find us a home of our own in a small town called Hanwell, which was only a half mile away from my grandparents. We had many happy years at the house. In 1959 my sister Helen was born and the family was complete.

I can’t say I enjoyed school that much as the teachers were very strict and would cane you if you so much as spoke one word out of line. I was fairly good at sport, mathematics and art. English I found difficult because the teachers were never that good until the last year at school when a teacher called Mrs Hamilton taught English in such a way that it made the subject enjoyable and easy to understand.

Having an older brother meant I played boys’ games rather than girls’ games and football became a passion. When I was 15, I joined Queens Park Rangers Ladies Football team and loved every minute of every game. We won a number of trophies and travelled to all parts of the world including France, Holland and Thailand.

In 1975 I joined the Women’s Royal Air Force as a Telecommunications Operator. It was there I met my future husband, Spencer. However, the marriage was not a happy one and we divorced three years later.

A few months after my divorce, I took a holiday to Canada. While I was there I heard the remarkable story of Terry Fox, who despite losing his right leg to cancer, embarked on an incredible run across his vast country to raise money for cancer research. Tragically, Terry never completed his Marathon of Hope, for after running 3,339 miles, the cancer returned and resulted in his untimely death.

Terry left an impression on me and his lasting words were, “I just wish people would realise that anything is possible if you try, dreams are made if people try.”

On my return from Canada, I began to question my life and thought about how much I had achieved. I had dreams of doing something remarkable with my life, but never thought I had the ability to carry anything through. It was then a seed began to grow and I had the idea of running around Great Britain, but then the nagging doubts returned, so I took the safe option and began training for the odd half marathon.

In between all the running, I went travelling to some wonderful and interesting places around the world, including Sri Lanka, Greece, Austria, Norway and the USA. On one trip, I travelled alone to Delhi in India and journeyed by train and coach to Kathmandu in Nepal. From there I travelled back into India to a place called Dharamsala and waited for a bus to McLeod Gunj, which is home to numerous Tibetan refuges and the Dalai Lama, who fled Tibet in 1959 when things got a bit dangerous. When the bus arrived, I wasn’t sure I had chosen the right mode of transport as there were just as many goats, chickens and numerous other animals on the bus as there were people. It was a very interesting journey as the bus moved slowly up the mountainous road to a height of 5,400 feet. Just when I thought we were never going to reach our destination, buildings appeared out of nowhere, which was a relief as one of the goats and chickens were beginning to get on each others nerves.

I stayed in McLeod Gunj for a few weeks enjoying the tranquility of the place and the Tibetan people. When I returned to England I made a promise to travel to Tibet and see the real home of the Tibetans. This I did a couple of years later and it was a journey that I will always remember with a great deal of happiness, despite suffering the odd moment of altitude sickness.

In 1988, I decided I could not longer ignore the nagging idea of running around Great Britain. I knew that if I didn’t at least attempt to fulfil my dream, then I would regret it for the rest of my life. So for a year I trained, running every day until I was running about a hundred miles a week. During the times I wasn’t running or working, I wrote hundreds of letters to large companies to get sponsorship, but only a few bothered to reply.

It was around this time that I first saw Jeremy on television as Sherlock Holmes and of course the rest is history and can be read about in the book, The Jeremy Brett – Linda Pritchard Story. However, for those who haven’t read the book I will say that Jeremy was a guiding light during my run and we became close friends after it. We spent many happy moments at his local coffee shop, Tea Time, which has now sadly closed.

With huge encouragement from me, Jeremy talked for hours about his career. Then of course there were the dark times when he got ill. Like any mental illness, manic depression is devastating to those who have it and those who care. Looking back, I wonder how we coped. Jeremy’s sense of humour sure helped the situation and we found laughter in the most difficult times.

Of course it took months to get over losing Jeremy from heart failure. But because he was such a spiritual person and I have the belief that there is much more to us all than our limited existence on this planet, I was able to move on with my life knowing Jeremy was always nearby if I needed him. I doubt a day goes by without me thinking about him, but it is always with a happy heart and not sadness. I try and not ask him for help when a problem arises, but I do ask for guidance sometimes and I’m glad to say all obstacles have been overcome.

In 2001, just after the 9/11 terrorist attack on New York, my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease and it was then I truly needed help. The illness moved at a rapid rate and the disintegration in my father’s mental health was heart-rending. There was no way my mother or I could cope with caring for him 24 hours a day and very soon my mother too was in hospital.

The agonising memories of visiting Jeremy in hospital came flooding back and I began to wonder if I could cope with it all again. Fortunately some divine help must have come from somewhere because the hospital where my mother was staying found a place in a local care home for my dad. After an operation my mum come home to some much-needed rest.

On 3 March 2003 my father passed away and is now free from an illness that is beyond the realms of comprehension.

I no longer live in London as it got too noisy and overcrowded. My home is now by the coast in a quiet town in Devon where my mother and I are enjoying the slower pace of life and the wonderful scenery. I don’t feel less connected to Jeremy or my father since moving away because those who pass on do not stay tied to the place they left behind. They soar to a higher awareness that gives them the power to watch over the lives of those they loved and give help whenever they are asked.

Thank you for taking the time to read this brief autobiography.

Linda Pritchard

Linda and her backup driver Ted Rayner, greeted on the street where she lived,
at the end of her Keep Hope Alive run in 1989.

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