May 5th 1979, I am at my mother’s flat in Elm Park Gardens, getting myself ready for my wedding. The flat is teeming with people. My mother, my stepfather, a friend who is sewing me into my headdress – we thought it would be so easy – my father who is wearing two vests very […]Read Post ›
Today would have been her 93rd birthday. In this photo, taken on her little sister’s fiftieth, she was fifty six. That smile remained with her to the end. I can’t remember the actual sound of her laugh, I’ve just realised, but the smile is unforgettable. And she smiled a lot. That radiant lipstick. Dior no […]Read Post ›
Robert Edward Gordon; my godfather. Of course he wasn’t born Robert Edward Gordon 104 years ago today. He was born Zbigniew Szczepański, in Poznań, I believe, 6 days after Poland regained her independence after 123 years of partition. I imagine his mother must have been thrilled to give birth to her first and I believe […]Read Post ›
This was Mother Mary Austen’s catchphrase. Oh, how we laughed at her. One of the most ancient of nuns in my convent school, she was big, ungainly and ripe for teasing at all times. Her innocence was immense. She had entered the convent before the first world war, and once admitted to us she had […]Read Post ›
I just found this book on my shelf after many years and was enchanted all over again by the sweetness of the cover. The illustrator is Margery Gill. The back cover is no less delightful. I received this book for Christmas when I was ten. I remember choosing it with the woman who gave it […]Read Post ›
Our plane was delayed. We had sat in it for an hour before it moved off. Then it did. Fast. Up and down. Too much turbulence for me. We were in business class. I was looking forward to my delicious meal. Instead we got something they called afternoon tea. But no tea. Little stale sandwiches. […]Read Post ›
Wednesday. And we’re off again. Is there anything more stressful than packing on a hot day to go somewhere even hotter. Luckily there is lots of time and I actually did most of my own packing yesterday. Work expands to fit the time available so I spent all day, running! Up and down the stairs, […]Read Post ›
When I was very small my paternal grandmother used to talk about going to the Prater, the ancient Viennese funfair with a giant ferris wheel. I never really understood what she was talking about, as the Polish words for Vienna and prison were virtually interchangeable in my childish mind – I knew she had lived […]Read Post ›
Couldn’t put it down. Better than the first Thursday Club, because it doesn’t spend so much time explaining who is who. I love Joyce and her self deprecating asides. Lovely Bogdan, the token Pole, has a smaller role to play here, but still twinkles blue eyes and tattoos when necessary. Chris, the fat policeman who […]Read Post ›
Life Through Basia's Eyes 