Meet Donna Hurley who turned her own challenges into hope, warmth and renewal for those around her
Donna Hurley is affectionately known as the ‘Queen of Ely’
Inside the Ely Hub, where people drop in for advice, warmth or simply a familiar face, the real character of the community comes into focus. And at the centre of it all is the woman many here credit with changing their lives – Donna Hurley is affectionately known as the “Queen of Ely”.
The title makes her wince, but her colleagues insist it fits. “In a nutshell,” says Hywel Price, “she’s supported a lot of people — and she still does. She’s passionate, she genuinely cares, and you can see it in everything she does.”
Rebecca Norman puts it even more plainly: “She helps everyone. Everyone knows her. She’s helped people set up businesses, get on their feet. Her hairdresser and nail tech? Both women she helped into work.”
Donna laughs off the praise, but her life – shaped by hardship, humour, resilience and service – mirrors the true spirit of Ely: ordinary people doing extraordinary things for one another.
Where it all began
Donna was born in 1962 and raised in Ely and still lives in the same house today.
“I’m a bit like a boomerang,” she laughs.
She grew up in a tight-knit family: Donna’s mother was from a huge Catholic family
“Ten doors up my mother was born — she had 13 sisters, three brothers. I had a lot of aunties and uncles on my street.”
Donna’s dad, was a Londoner who moved to Ely after the war.
“He was extremely intelligent. He won a scholarship to Emmanuel’s … and was a television engineer,” Donna explained.
Ely in the 1960s and 1970s was vibrant and multicultural, and Donna thrived in it.
“Always a street urchin — I loved being out,” she said.
New families fascinated her. “Mam would say, you mustn’t go in there … but I would”, said Donna, talking about her neighbours’ homes. We had Greek families, Spanish, Italian … I found people interesting from a very young age.”
But home wasn’t easy. Her father was strict, controlling and set rigid roles.
“Academics were for a boy. I would take the role of the woman,” she remembers.
She adapted quickly. “I learned how to climb out of windows. Children are resilient.”
The challenges forged her early grit. “I built resilience without realising I did it.” But they also taught her something softer. “People were kind — so I knew people are kind,” she said.
Early Adulthood: The Makings of Donna
Donna’s first major crossroads came before adulthood had even begun.
“I had a place to do nursing up in Exeter,” she says, “but that was not going to happen — there was no way my father was going to let me leave home.”
In a house where futures were decided for you, she learned to reroute rather than retreat.
“Nursing was out,” she says. “So I took the second-best option. I went into dentistry.”
What began as compromise soon became calling. Donna qualified as a dental therapist, her calm hands and steady manner making her a natural in the clinic.
A chance moment pushed her further: during an orthodontic appointment, a specialist invited her onto the team. “That’s when I became an orthodontic auxiliary. I loved it.”
But expectation loomed at home. Her father believed girls should marry young, settle quickly and stay close.
“There was always pressure,” she says. Donna married early, determined to give her children what she never had.
“I was just determined that while I had arms and legs, my kids would be fine … I knew I would never parent the way I was parented.”
Donna became a mother to Martin at 20 and Gareth at 22.
But bereavement, financial strain and the breakdown of her first marriage followed.
After her mother died, a former boss offered a lifeline: a community dentistry post with school-friendly hours. It took her into living rooms as much as clinics.
“I’d knock doors and say, ‘Why aren’t you bringing the kids to the dentist?’ It wasn’t neglect – they were overwhelmed.”
It was then she realised: “I just wanted to help my community.”
Donna’s next chapter began in the most unexpected place — the annex of her own home. In 2004, she converted the space where her father once lived into a nursery.
Donna used part of her own home to create a nursery(Image: Donna Hurley)
“I gave myself three months, and we did it. I loved every minute of it,” she said.
The nursery quickly became a lifeline for families across Ely. Donna took in babies as young as five weeks old.
Years of learning and fun at Donna
One “practically lived with us … he had his own bedroom,” Donna laughs. “I still see him now he’s 20.”
Her approach was simple: tea on the table, kindness at the door, and no judgement.
“How can you expect people to know something they’ve never been taught?” Donna explains.
Donna has a simple approach(Image: Donna Hurley)
Many parents who first arrived overwhelmed ended up in college or work – some even went on to university.
When Donna closed the nursery in 2009, it wasn’t because the work was done – it was because she realised the real change needed to happen with the adults, not just the children.
“A lot of parents really want to do something, but they’re stuck,” said Donna.
So she moved into Genesis, a major Welsh Government programme supporting vulnerable parents across Cardiff.
It meant taking a pay cut. “I cut my salary in half because I needed to learn more – but it opened up a whole new world of support work.”
Genesis focused on parents who were isolated, overwhelmed or slipping through the cracks. Donna helped them gain confidence, find courses, learn life skills and start planning for a future they’d never thought possible.
Donna Hurley has spent many years helping others(Image: Donna Hurley)
“I absolutely loved my time in Genesis,” she says. “I learned so much about parents – and how to help them make real changes.”
For many of the mums and dads she’d once welcomed into the nursery with a cup of tea, Genesis was the next step: education, training, even university. The children had grown — now Donna was helping the parents grow with them.
Donna’s next challenge came with Grand Avenues, a programme supporting prison leavers and men on probation – some of the most vulnerable, overlooked people in the system.
Donna approached them the same way she a pproached everyone: without judgement.
“For me, people are just people,” she says. “If I can help one guy not to go back over the wall, it’s huge.”
Her honesty, boundaries and person-centred approach earned trust where services often struggled.
One man she supported after a long sentence now earns £650 a week in stable work. “I was almost crying,” Donna says. “That’s life-changing.”
New love, hard times, no giving up
After years raising two young boys alone, Donna met Steve at the age of 28, drawn not to romance but to the relief of laughter after years of strain. “It was the laughter Steve brought,” she says — something she’d almost forgotten.
Donna with Steve(Image: Donna Hurley)
Steve knew early on he wanted to be part of their lives. “He turned up with two Spider-Man posters and said, ‘I really want to meet the boys.’ He knew the way to me was through them.”
But just as they planned a fresh start, everything collapsed. The very day they were meant to sign for a new home, Steve lost his job.
“We went homeless with my two children … I told my children, they were going on holiday.”
The family were placed in a Whitchurch guesthouse while refusing unsafe or unsuitable placements. Their first temporary house was in Cathays — cramped, bare and far from home — where Donna learned she was expecting her third son, Joe.
They later moved to a derelict house in Fairwater, rebuilding it from scratch: bleaching floors, scrubbing walls, boarding shattered doors, borrowing carpet and furniture.
Donna brought her family back to Ely – first to the street where she was born, and two years later to the house she was born in – the place where she would rebuild everything.
She has lived through hardship that could have broken her; instead, she used it to build others up. She proves that hope isn’t abstract – it’s something you hand to the next person.