I was 14. My dad had always been a ladies man and had several girlfriends at a time. However even though he was only in his mid 40s, he had had a heart attack, which had just left him disabled. As soon as he became ill, this one woman, let’s call her Geraldine, who had only dated him a few times, muscled in and took over. Within a couple of months they were engaged.

Geraldine was a very bossy woman, older than he was, and a teacher of disabled children. My dad was from a rich family, though he wasn’t rich himself. My grandparents were still alive but around 80.

They decided to get married on my birthday. Birthdays aren't a big thing in my father's family. My mum said ‘don't go to the wedding if you don't want to’. But I was excited; I had never been to a wedding before.

It was a disaster. By the end of the day my brand new stepmother said if she ever saw me again it would be too soon.

I wasn't allowed to ring their house or see my father for four years, until my sibling saw how awful this marriage was for him with this controlling woman. My sibling took my dad away and set up a home so my sibling could care for my dad. My dad asked for a divorce, because of the way Geraldine treated him as a cheque book, and how much she bossed him around. Geraldine refused to agree to a divorce (we knew she was just waiting for my grandparents to die) and my father had to wait 5 years under British law to divorce someone who didn't consent.

So what was my revenge? Well I was 15, there wasn't anything decent I could do. No mobile phones, no internet, they lived 100 miles away, no public transport. What there was in the 1980s was mail order. Every TV listings magazine or women's magazine had loads of offers you could write off for freepost…so that's what I did.

You name it, I applied for it in the name of Mrs Geraldine Miros : carpet samples, blind companies, double glazing quotes, Kay's catalogue, those baths for old people which open at the side, over 50s equity release, stannah stair lifts, every single coupon I could send off for, I did. I think my mum had an idea of what was going on, if only that all the magazines in the house had the coupons cut out and she kept needing to buy more envelopes.

I am sorry for the companies, wasting their time and resources in sending a catalogue or for a salesman to write for an appointment. But I am not sorry for pissing off that greedy woman who took my dad away from me. He died when I was in my mid 20s so I had a few years with him before then, but four years fewer than I should have had.