ANTHEA Barnes was an 11-year-old school girl living in Folkestone when her father was involved in the Lewisham rail crash in 1957.

Here she shares the story of her father's miraculous survival, and of how his terrible injuries and memories of the tragic accident left permanent scars on her family life.

MY FATHER John Attwater was a regular commuter to London, working as a rep for a book publishing company and he travelled on the [Ramsgate-bound] train every evening, always at the front carriage.

I was eleven at the time of the rail crash, and went to Brampton Down School in Folkestone as a day girl. My brother was just 13 and was at Harvey Grammar. We all lived in top floor flat in Castle Hill Avenue.

I can remember coming home from my dance class at about 6.30pm, and by 7pm my father still hadn't arrived but we had our supper.

I'm sure that at some time my mother heard on the radio that there had been an accident on the trains, but information was sketchy. Later that evening a police came to the house and told my mother that my father had been involved in the accident, and was in The Miller Hospital at Greenwich.

He had been in the coach under the bridge (debris from the fallen structure all but flattened the front carriage) and had a number of serious injuries, mainly to his legs, arms and head. He never remembered much about the accident, except that the one other person in his compatment died.

Everything was very strange for several days - I was collected by my headmistress the next morning and taken to school, not really knowing what was happening, and my brother went to his own school.

My mother went to visit my father in hospital, and I remember spending the weekend as a boarder. My then dance teacher Miss Margaret Hammond took me out to lunch at The Queen's Hotel in Guildhall Street, and she bought me mint toffees. This always stayed in my mind.

My mother went up and down to visit my father every day for a long time; the first time we were allowed to visit was at Christmas when he was still very ill but fortunately recovering. I remember distinctly how bruised and yellow he looked.

Several months after the accident, the police brought my father's very battered brief case home - it had been found some distance away from the site.

My father spent several months in hospital in Greenwich and, when he was able to return home, was in and out of hospital in Folkestone. By this time we had moved into a house in Welson Road, as he would never have managed the stairs in our top flat flat.

Psychologically, my father was never the same; he had to wear a built up shoe, as his leg was much shorter than the other one due to pieces of bone breaking and being removed. His wrist, which had been severed through, caused him a lot of problems, and he didn't like any noise; he never returned to work and couldn't travel on the trains again.

Later when I started commuting to ballet school in London, he was extremely nervous when the train was late, especially when foggy.

The crash was the beginning of a lot of family problems for us. They didn't have counselling in those days - you just got on with life - and eventually my parents seperated and divorced.

Unfortunately I was not able to attend the memorial service at Lewisham, but I would like to thank the people for organising the it.