Hoddle heart-stop lifesaver was a novice at doing CPR
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A SOUND engineer who saved the life of England football icon Glenn Hoddle has admitted it was the first time he had done CPR.
Hoddle, 61, collapsed during a live BT Sport broadcast and his heart stopped for 60 seconds.
But Simon Daniels, 48, rushed to his aid after hearing cries for help and has told how he felt for a pulse to keep him alive.
Hoddle has thanked Mr Daniels, saying: “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.”
Speaking last night, Mr Daniels told ITV News: “It was actually the first time that I’d done CPR on a real person. But I was very aware that I had to do something quickly. I knew that what I was doing was giving him a fighting chance.”
Hoddle had been playing football with colleague Robbie Savage before he collapsed.
The sound engineer broke seven of the former Tottenham star’s ribs doing CPR.
Mr Daniels said when he visited Hoddle gave him a hug “and I immediately gave him a big hug back and he went: ‘Oh not too hard!’ because he was still in a bit of pain. And the second thing he said was ‘You know you broke seven of my ribs?’ and we had a laugh and it was just lovely”.
ON the eve of the Second World War, with only seven months’ supply of timber stockpiled, Britain was in dire trouble. It had been the world’s largest timber importer before the war, but as the Allies mobilised, it started to depend heavily on its own resources.
There was no choice. Britain had to become self-reliant. Critical to the war effort, timber was needed for everything from aircraft and shipbuilding to communications and coal mining.
Lacking both men and timber, the government had to make a decision and, somewhat reluctantly, they started the Women’s Timber Corps. “Timber was one of the first natural resources needed during the war because it was used for everything,” says Joanna Foat, the author of new book, Lumberjills: Britain’s Forgotten Army.
By 1942, a wartime career in forestry proved to be appealing for women. The promise of travel, better hours than the Land Army and a more generous pay scale attracted volunteers in their droves. About 250 women between 18 and 35 signed up to the corps each month. Preferring forestry to the munitions factories, an estimated 15,000 women at the peak of the Women’s Timber Corps were felling trees, driving trucks and using cross-cut saws in aid of the cause, Joanna estimates.
These women became fondly known as the Lumberjills. But although it was an attractive wartime job, life was far from easy. Subject to prejudice, ridicule and sexism, these women were soon labelled the Forestry Handicap.
“It came from all directions,” says Joanna. “They didn’t fit into a pigeonhole so people didn’t know what to do with them.”
Regarded as the weaker sex and considered unfit to carry out demanding physical labour, these women were wanted by large sections of the timber trade.
At first, they agreed that only women educated to university degree level, with an aptitude for mathematics, could become measurers. The industry was still reluctant to allow females to perform general forestry duties that required a degree of physical strength.
HOWEVER, a desperate shortage of male workers and a surge in female volunteers left the timber trade with no choice but to permit women further into their ranks.
The Women’s Timber Corps quickly established themselves as grafters who were not afraid of hard work in all weather conditions. The strongest, who came to rival men, were labelled “female Amazons”, and thanks to their hard work the Lumberjills began to gain recognition for their contributions.
One Lumberjill, Audrey Broad was 14 years old when war broke out in September 1939. Audrey, who had aspirations of becoming a teacher, was upset when she was told by her parents that she could not continue her education. From a middle-class family with five children, as the eldest girl Audrey was needed at home to look after her younger siblings.
“It still hurts that I wasn’t able to go to college and become a teacher,” Audrey told Joanna. “Although, I would not want to speak badly of my parents as they did what they thought was right at the time.
“Mum had a new baby – my little baby brother called Fred – and I was needed to help look after him.”
Determined to prove herself like her brothers, in 1942 she trained with the girls’ brigade, becoming a sergeant and a year later, she left home to join the Women’s Timber Corps in March 1943, and Audrey stayed with a working-class family in Brighton. She worked in Arundel, Poynings and Southwater in Sussex, where she was chosen to be chief measurer.
Keen to be promoted to more senior roles, Audrey soon found herself calculating wages based on piecework.
“That was really amazing at the time,” says Joanna. “It was quite unusual in the day for women to be so responsible for all the finances.”
Over 500 miles away in Argyll and Bute, a teenage Molly Paterson found herself in a similar position to Audrey. She yearned to go to high school in Oban, but was told by her mother that she must go out to work.
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