Sandra

A never-forgotten Christmas

The telegram sent by my new-made grandfather, telling my father of my safe arrival, at five minutes to midnight on the twentieth December (and, according to my great-grandfather’s fish scales, weighing 6lbs 4 ozs) is explanation enough of why I don’t remember my first Christmas. To establish whether it was my sec…[Read more]

Sorry, Terrie, no way do I have head space to do anything for this. Will aim to Do Better next time

This the result of apending 5 days writing with a gathering of Self-Edit participants.

Games people play

Monday morning’s plumping of the pillows of our marital bed effortful, thanks to both sleep and sex absent as snow in August throughout the weekend. Similarly,  energy enough to dissipate the sourness of my reaction when I noticed  the wor…[Read more]

Fabulous indeed – thanks for the link, Libby. I’ve much enjoyed Emma’s two previous novels, so this will be a cert.

Only two entries, as Athelstone rightly points out, but both were a joy insofar as they echoed some of my experiences.  Like Jill, Steve and I were but 16 and eighteen – me young enough to be banned from going on the back of his motorbike, but after four years of ‘going steady’, when  Steve asked my Dad for,  permission  to marry me his response…[Read more]

Only two entries, as Athelstone rightly points out, but both were a joy insofar as they echoed some of my experiences.  Like Jill, Steve and I were but sixteen and eighteen – me young enough to be banned from going on the back of his motorbike, but after four years of ‘going steady’, when  Steve asked my Dad for,  permission  to marry me his respo…[Read more]

Aargh – busy weekend filled with grandchildren visits and attempts to add names to a 1905 photo of a Christmas celebration family history question. I’ll get to reading and deciding ASAP.

@ Libby: Sorry not be reading an entry from you, but fully sympathise with lack of time.