Kenny Logan's story about Lassie

I was sixteen years old when I read a book for the first time. It was Lassie, written for nine-year-olds. It wasn’t until I left school that dyslexia was first mentioned.
I had walked out on my exams without being able to write a word. The supervisor had intercepted me but I told him, "I can’t read. I can’t even write my address. There’s nothing for me here."

My mother arranged for me to go round to a teacher, Deirdre Wilson’s house once or twice a week after I’d left school and I did this for about a year. It was Deirdre who was the first to diagnose me with dyslexia. It was a great relief to know what the problem had been – even that there had been a problem at all – but it was frustrating, knowing all I could do was keep trying.

I went through 'Lassie' word by word, and after a page I was exhausted. I just couldn’t take any of it in. Deirdre was fantastic, and I’ll always be grateful for the effort she put in. The whole experience was a positive change in my life because now I had a reason and a word for my troubles with reading: dyslexia. But I soon realised that there was no quick solution and the endless struggle to get round, or just to cover up, my illiteracy was going to continue.

From the moment I met my wife Gabby I knew my life had changed. She sussed me out almost immediately. Not only that, but she could see what dyslexia had done to me and what it might still go on to do. She pushed and pushed and pushed until I’d faced up to my condition, the guilty secret and bane of my life, until I had finally done something about it. I finally learnt those vowels, aged thirty. Anything seemed possible.