IN this new series, we look at local people who have had to deal with traumatic situations in their lives - and have fought back. Here, ANGELA KELLY talks to a local businessman who fought to save his hairdressing business only to find himself diagnosed with a crippling illness work has always been the fuel of life for Andrew Higgin.

When his five Mr Andrew Hairitorium hairdressing salons crashed in 1980, owing the taxman £65,000, Bolton-based Andrew's response was to start up again.

And when he was diagnosed last August with fatal and debilitating Motor Neurone Disease, it was still business as usual.

"I don't know whether it's because I went to boarding school at the age of eight and learned to just get on with things, but working seems to be the most natural thing to do under all circumstances," he chuckles, with some difficulty.

Andrew is 55 now, and there's still much there of the cheeky, confident crimper who rivalled Vidal Sassoon in the North during the hair-conscious '70s.

His route to top businessman was not planned. Born in Preston but brought up in Bury, Andrew had a public school education before telling his surprised parents that he saw his naturally creative talents going into the world of hairdressing.

"My dad, who had his own furniture-making business, took it in his stride. My mum was a bit shocked, though, because hairdressing wasn't what lads did then," he recalls.

A three-year apprenticeship with a respected Whitefield hairdresser was followed by stints with famous Manchester hairdressing salons at Kendals, Rene Claro and James and Peter, where he became manager.

Andrew said: "Hairdressing at that time was all 'shampoo and set', and I became a bit disillusioned. I joined L'Oreal (the famous hair products company) as a technical representative - their youngest at 21 - and then I gained huge business experience.

"I visited salons from the Gorbals in Glasgow to the West End of London so I really saw all parts of the hairdressing spectrum."

Eventually, it was his bank manager - recognising the skill and knowledge Andrew had acquired - who suggested that he start his own salon, in the then newly-built Bury shopping centre.

Andrew opened his first Mr Andrew Hairitorium in Union Arcade at the age of 26. He had three staff, but the business took off so well that within nine months he had 20.

He opened his second salon in Preston with the same success, and then three more within the space of nine months, in Bolton's Bradshawgate, in Chorley and in Lancaster.

"We specialised in cut and blow styles, tried out crazy new colours, and were the first to offer specialised training courses," he says, smiling with professional pride at the memory.

Andrew made his home in Bolton and, as hairdressers moved into star status everywhere, he built up a large collection of newspaper cuttings during the '70s.

Like many creative people, though, he was not practical enough when it came to finances. "You learn by your mistakes," he said.

By 1980, his business had crashed, owing the taxman what at the time was a fortune. "To be honest, I suppose I'd seen it coming. I had cut back on staff, but, in the end, I couldn't stop it happening."

Everything went - the salons, the car, the nice new flat in Darcy Lever. He was left with £3 in his pocket.

"But, I still had my talent, still had my hands and a pair of scissors. I started on my own the next day, going mobile."

Now, the hard work ethic kicked in good and proper.

With all his assets sold and paying out around £100 a week to clear his debts, Andrew was eventually discharged as a bankrupt.

He bought back his flat from the receivers. He built up his business, visiting clients' homes from multi-million pound mansions in Prestbury to two-up, two-downs in Tonge Moor.

He bought a holiday apartment in Gran Canaria, and was living happily with his 13-years-old son Josh from his second marriage (he has two grown up children from his first) in a pleasant, modern detached house in Bramcote Avenue, The Haulgh.

Fate, however, still had one more nasty surprise.

Just a year ago, Andrew was enjoying one of his regular walks around the Jumbles when he felt unusually tired. Then, as he went up the steps back to his car, he stumbled badly.

"I knew something was wrong. I went to my doctor the next day, and he referred me for tests. Eventually, in August, I spent three days in Hope Hospital having neurological tests."

The verdict was devastating. Andrew had a disease for which there is no known cure, no treatment, and the prospect of death within years.

Motor Neurone Disease affects the nerve cells which control the muscles in the brain and spinal cord. As the these gradually die, the muscles stop working.

Already, Andrew struggles to shout, cough, swallow and even walk more than a couple of yards.

His arms and legs have lost much of their muscle tone, and his weight has plummeted.

He knows that the future is bleak, and that he will probably end up in a wheelchair. "I just take it one week at a time. It would be foolish to look too far ahead."

In the meantime, Josh helps with the shopping, stops his dad from getting stuck in the bath, and is generally supportive. One kindly neighbour comes in to help with the cleaning while another does his ironing, and his family rallies round.

But ..... as ever, the hairdressing work goes on.

He cannot carry his equipment bag or even walk far, but he can still comfortably drive his automatic car. And his customers - some of whom have been with him for 20 years and count him as a friend - are keen to help as long as Andrew is able to come out to them and still work the old magic with their hair.

"I've never considered stopping hairdressing, although sometimes it does take it out of me and I feel very tired," he explains.

"It's funny, isn't it, but when you're doing something you enjoy, you just don't feel the pain. It's when you stop you realise that you're weary. But I certainly will go on doing my hairdressing, and seeing my friends, for as long as I can."

"I might still write a book," he informs me as we part. "I've provisionally entitled it 'Public School Failure, University of Life Success'."

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.