She died exactly twelve years ago. My favourite aunt. My only aunt but still my favourite. Vibrant, sassy, kind and extremely self contained. She was the original who never complained, never explained. She was born Alicja Łomnicka, in Lwów, Poland in 1936. She became Alice Ruffell when she married. The marriage didn’t last – whatever […]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 ›
I have always loved poetry and the sound of my own voice, so when I was asked to read a poem as part of a national poetry reading event I didn’t hesitate to agree. It was supposed to happen on my birthday in September, and I was tempted by the thought that there would be […]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 ›
Thirty years ago my stepfather died very suddenly. He was sixty one. 14 years later my mother followed him. In this photo they are in front of Sheffield City Hall just after my graduation in 1976. He is forty five. My mother is 47. He is the slimmest he’s ever been. That day was one […]Read Post ›
I was a great disappointment to my father in one particuar way. I did not like sport. I could not catch a ball, or throw it, or run, or jump, or aim, or swim, or ride. Nothing. He did manage to teach me to skate – how? I can’t now, but I did learn to […]Read Post ›
No longer with us, my father loved a Christmas hat. With embellishments. I used to find it really irritating. Now I miss it. He was the most intensely social being. When I was tiny I can remember people frequently coming round to our flat in Talgarth Road to play bridge or hearts or just for […]Read Post ›
I received this book last Friday. Every spare moment this weekend was spent reading it – I finally finished it this morning. A fascinating insight into the mind and mores of a man whose life and experiences could not be more different from my own. Time, place, customs and the law all played their part […]Read Post ›
Good Friday always used to be the most difficult day of the year for me. When I was little it was the beginning of the most boring long weekend of the year. Friday was a bank holiday – there was absolutely nowhere to go, nothing to do, all the shops were shut, it was usually […]Read Post ›
Life Through Basia's Eyes 