Tag Archives: Childhood

Peddler

The travelling man’s bags were filled to overflowing, and although our mothers turned their noses up, we children recognised the smell of adventure. The cheap baubles were gems from Persia where the king was called the Shah and women wore … Continue reading

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Appian Way

I wasn’t there when you died. I tried, oh I tried to open the window wider that night. I tried to make enough room for your great big soul to bolt to the heavens, to open a gate for your … Continue reading

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Frances

Nanny changed when her husband died. A woman who’d never walked when she could run suddenly seemed different, though at twelve I didn’t really understand how. It was as though Pop’s death had surprised her into noticing her life, and looking … Continue reading

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