Grandmothers – written in 1978 part one
Grandmothers – written in 1978 part one.
Grandmothers – written in 1978 part one.
George Sand, mentor, friend and lover of Chopin, went to my school , St Augustine’s Priory when it was still in Neuilly near Paris. The nuns were very embarrassed when I discovered this in 1965 because they were so ashamed of her. Not only did she live with a man, she dressed like a man, […]Read Post ›
Grandmothers For K, A, M … I was blessed with four. Which means I was twice as lucky as the average child and four times as fortunate as the average orphan. An advantage of four times seventy years against my erstwhile seven. Formidable calculations, guaranteed to put off the average innumerate reader. Be not […]Read Post ›
For JH Serendipity was the name of a very new and exciting shop in Notting Hill Gate in the sixties. I never actually went inside because I had no money, but I would press my nose to the window and look longingly at the mixture of colourful home furnishings and useless but pretty […]Read Post ›
This was written in response to an invitation from the BBC to write a short broadcast on an aspect of my career. Never broadcast though! “What an excellent lesson!” Relief surged through my body, as I could not stop myself grinning inanely at this lively blonde woman who was prepared to acknowledge me as […]Read Post ›
(For GD) Today it is sunny for the first time in ages. But still cold. Very cold. Yet the very word sunshine makes me smile. And the word for smile in Spanish is sonrisa. And sonrisa is like sunrise. The most beautiful time of day. Dawn. Every morning when I get up I watch the […]Read Post ›
My Week with thanks to the boy in White City who was talking to his phone about Scatterday Monday: Funday Tuesday: Boozeday or Snoozeday Wednesday: Mensday Thursday: Hersday Friday: Myday Saturday: Scatterday Sunday Oneday….
For T When I was at the convent we had these very ancient nuns who had not seen the outside world since before the First World War. One of them, Mother Mary Austen, was particularly ancient and not terribly attractive physically. We were very unkind and spent a lot of time laughing at her, especially […]Read Post ›
Neck. That’s what you think about when you hear the word ‘albatross’, isn’t it? Water, water, everywhere. The Ancient Mariner trying to tell his story. Nor any drop to drink. Maybe this blog is the albatross round my neck as I try to tell my story through your words and ideas. I seem to feel […]Read Post ›