I arrived on holiday in 1966 from a suburb of London bemused by a farmyard of chickens, pigs, cow muck and strange Irish accents. I was eight years old, a little overweight and carrying a heavier burden - a sense of not quite fitting in anywhere.

The farm where my father had been a boy increased my sense of disconnection at first. My cousins had strange expertise in fashioning nauseous 'cigarettes' from reeds and handling large animals, but an incomprehensible lack of interest in England's progress in the World Cup.

It did not help that they showed me pictures of republican heroes executed by the British in a brutal suppression of the 1916 uprising leaving me with an uneasy sense of responsibility for wrong doing.

It was in this, at first unpromising environment that I found someone who gave me a sense of security and acceptance that remains important 40 years later. My Auntie Mary spent most of her time in her farmhouse kitchen, preparing endless meals on a range for the farm workforce. She would venture out into the yard to feed chickens in the morning but afterwards could always be found near the kitchen, and the offer of tea and soda bread was never far off.   

Her little domain was a place of both physical and emotional comfort and warmth. I spent as much time as I could with her because I sensed that she understood me even better than I did myself. Somehow nothing I said or did seemed to surprise or irritate her. It was immensely comforting to have a place where I felt that all was well and that I was accepted for who I was.

Extraordinarily she said 'One day that boy will be a professor' to the unbelieving audience of all my family, including me. I still can't imagine why she said this about the clumsy and uncomfortable little boy she met, but she proved to be right about this as she was with so many other  things.

We only rarely went to Ireland, but I was often comforted by the thought of her kindness in her kitchen and the sense that there was a place where I would always be accepted and understood.

There was something very special about my Auntie Mary - she immediately made children feel loved and worthwhile. The number of people touched by her life only became apparent at her funeral earlier this year when more than 1,500 people turned up to celebrate a life well lived and the passing of a kind and humble woman.

Perhaps everyone has an Auntie Mary,a stable figure who makes them feel loved and valuable throughout childhood. I hope so, but I think I was very fortunate. Mental health problems have become an increasingly important concern. One large survey showed that nearly one in ten British children have a psychiatric disorder (Ford et al 2003).

There is increasing focus on parenting because of concerns about socially unacceptable behaviour, academic achievement, patterns of obesity and overweight, as well as mental health problems. Enough parents feel uncertain about how to deal with their children for a company that made its name in the occupational psychology of leadership to turn its attention to parenting. They claim that their 'decision tree' can help parents to select the most appropriate decision-making style in interactions with their children (Formula 4 Parenting 2005).

Perhaps expertise gained through coaching managers to lead organisations can be helpful to parents dealing with their children and good luck to the company if they can make some money by helping parents. However my first wish for every child would be to have an Auntie Mary to help them to believe in themselves and to build the self esteem required in a sometimes harsh world.