The powerhouse of a woman who has turned pain into positivity - Christa Ackroyd

A sense of justice emerged last Sunday evening when I read of yet another fall from grace at the BBC even though both parties were not in place when I was sacked, though at least one of them was certainly at the helm as I continued my fight in the years that followed.

Maybe he didn’t know. I like to think that. Money which I received wasn’t what I was after, just an apology for wrong doing. And a chance to rebuild sooner than I was forced to do.

If I had been alone when the news broke I would have had a myriad of emotions.

Anger, vindication, perhaps even a sense of karma. And then I would have cried. Because I have cried a lot these past few years.

But I wasn’t alone and that immediate rush of justice was quickly replaced with a reminder that there are so many things much more important than a personal fight with an organisation which thought I would just leave quietly in shame, shame they themselves brought to my door which they quickly slammed in my face without a thought as to the consequences.

And so forgive me if I deliberately separate the two quite literally in this column this week.

They do not belong together. One stands head and shoulders above the other and I do not want them confused.

On Sunday afternoon I was with friends, friends strong and true, who had invited me to an event the likes of which I had never been to before.

It was full of famous faces from Strictly dancers to Bake Off Stars, doyennes of broadcasting to comedians, with more than a smattering of journalist commentators whom I admired.

And one woman whom surprisingly I had never met before, though I don’t understand how our paths have never crossed.

The event was in the poshest of London hotels, the kind of hotel I thought I would never visit again. And anyway the Yorkshire in me would never pay £22 for a glass of wine.

It was opulent, it was lively, it was beautifully decorated for Christmas. And it had purpose.

Caron Keating was 41 years old when she died.

She died after battling breast cancer for four years, at her mother’s home, 21 years ago. She travelled the world searching for cures, but it was a fight she didn’t win.

We might have known both mother and daughter for their distinguished broadcasting careers but in the end they were simply just that.

Gloria Hunniford was there at the beginning and there at the end for her child. And that is where the story may have ended too. But it hasn’t.

Every year Gloria hosts a big bash. It is filled with music and fun and there are pictures of Caron everywhere.

It raises a lot of money for cancer charities, supporting both those going through it, their families, those who care for them and those who seek a cure.

Between events Gloria sits quietly at home at her kitchen table and personally works out who will benefit from the Caron Keating Foundation.

And I can only wonder at how she does it, even if I know why.

As we chatted last Sunday it was the same reason I have heard so many times.

Yes it is to ensure someone isn’t forgotten.

Yes it is to do good for others in their name.

But as Gloria said so simply last Sunday – “It is how I cope”.

In just that brief conversation I knew all I needed to know about a woman who has been in my industry for decades.

Gloria Hunniford is not the sum of what she has achieved. She is not defined by her fame, even by her broadcasting talent.

She would trade it all in a heartbeat if she could change the past. But she can’t.

And so she copes by honouring someone she has lost, by making things better for others.

At 85 years old she is still a woman on a mission. You can see it in her face and hear it in her voice.

And she is a beautiful soul, as are so many who have walked her painful path.

I have a pretty good imagination but I cannot imagine losing a child. Just the thought let alone the reality is unbearable.

But it was an honour to be in that room last Sunday when I heard my ‘news’ because it was a sharp reminder that most things, even though they seem momentous at the time, do not really matter and anything can be borne if you are still surrounded by those who love you and those you love.

My last word on the BBC.

We need it. But we need it to stop navel gazing when they get it wrong. Crises can be averted with honesty and responsibility.

We are all human and we all make mistakes. Nobody is infallible and I count myself in that too.

But we need the BBC to shine a beacon of truth on what is happening out there and to be entirely trustworthy in the delivery of that truth.

Because it can and should be the beacon it was set up to be, and in doing so an antidote to the era of division and anger we find ourselves in, brought about largely through misinformation, which it now stand accused of time and time again.

It is a sobering lesson the BBC must heed.

Truth matters. There are facts to be checked, yes, but the truth is what needs to shine through and both sides of the argument put forward so we can make up our own minds about that truth.

I wish the BBC well. There are so many good people working there not for money, not for fame but to uncover that truth. They are not the problem, inaction and the inability to make the right decisions higher up the chain is.

And that is not good for the organisation, and it is certainly not good for us. It creates a void, a vacuum for untruths to fester. The BBC must survive. It must continue itsmission to inform, educate and entertain. But it must do it better.

I wish you all well in whatever it is you face. Sometimes our problems seem momentous, sometimes they are, but sometimes what we think matters doesn’t really in the grand scheme of things.

I was reminded of that last Sunday by a powerhouse of a woman who has turned pain into positivity, unimaginable loss into action and above all love into ongoing life affirming proof that it never truly dies, if we listen hard enough.