My father arrived in the UK from Uganda in 1963 and worked on Birmingham’s building sites as a joiner. Nine months later, he had saved enough money to bring over his wife and children and to rent some accommodation for all of us. His aim was to secure a job, ensure that we had a roof over our heads and food on the table, and for his children to have the best education possible.
The idea that one of his sons would one day become a Member of Parliament, and a Conservative one at that, and sit at the Cabinet table, was simply not on the radar.
