Why do ambitious women have flat heads?

When I wrote my memoir,

the publishers were really confused.

Was it about me as a child refugee

or a woman who set up a high-tech
software company

back in the 1960s,

one that went public, and eventually
employed over 8,000 people?

Or was it as a mother of an autistic child?

Or as a philanthropist who has
now given away serious money?

Well, it turns out, I'm all of these.

Let me tell you my story.

All that I am steams from when
I got onto a train in Vienna,

part of the kinder-transport that saved
nearly 10,000 Jewish children

from Nazi Europe.

I was 5-years-old, clutching the hand
of my 9-year-old sister

and had very little idea as to
what was going on .

"What is England and why am I going there?"

I'm only alive because so long ago,
I was helped my generous strangers.

I was lucky, and doubly-lucky
to be later united

with my birth parents.

But, sadly, I never bonded with them again.

But I've done more in the seven decades
since that miserable day

my mother put me on the train

than I would ever have dreamed possible.

And I love England, my adopted country

with a passion that perhaps someone
who has lost their human rights

can feel.

I decided to make mine a life
that was worth saving.

And then, I just got on with it.

(Laughter)

Let me take you back to the early 1960s.

To get past the gender issues of the time,

I set up my own software house
at one of the first such startups in Britain.

It was also a company of women,
a company for women,

an early social business.

And people laughed at the very idea

because software, at that time,
was given away free with hardware.

No body would buy software,

certainly not from a woman.

Although women were then coming out
of the universities

with decent degrees,

there was a glass ceiling to our progress.

And I'd hit that glass ceiling too often.

And I want opportunities for women.

I recruited professionally-qualified women
who'd left the industry

on marrriage or when their first child was expected

and structured them into a home-working
organization.

We pioneered the concept of women
getting back into the workforce

after a career break.

We pioneered all sorts
of flexible work methods:

job shares, profit sharing, and eventually,
co-ownership

when I took a quarter of the company
into the hands of the staff

at no cost to anyone but me.

For years, I was the "first-woman" this,
or the "only-woman" that.

And in those days, I couldn't work
on the stock exchange,

I couldn't drive a bus or fly an airplane.

Indeed I couldn't open a bank account
without my husband's permission.

My generation of women fought
the battles for the right to work

and the right for equal pay.

Nobody really expected much
from people at work

or people in society because
all the expectations then

were about home and family responsibilities.

And I couldn't really face that,

so I started to challenge the conventions
of the time,

even to the extent of changing my name
from Stephanie to Steve

in my business development letters,

so as to get through the door
before anyone realized

that he was a she.

(Laughter).

My company called Freelance Programmers,
and that's precisely what it was,

couldn't have started smaller:
on the dining room table

and fiancee by the equivalent of
one hundred dollars in today's terms,

and financed by my labor and by borrowing
against the house.

My interests were scientific,
the market was commercial.

Things such as payroll, which I found
rather boring.

So I had to compromise with operational
research work,

which had the intellectual challenge that
interested me and the commercial

value that was valued by the clients.

Things like scheduling freight trains,

time-tabling buses, stock control,
lots and lots of stock control.

And eventually, the work came in.

We disguised the domestic
and part-time nature

of the staff by offering fixed prices,
one of the very first