• Living Between the Lines,  Mum is the word

    A letter from the past…

    This letter came into my possession recently, It was sent to my mother, a few days before her wedding to my father, Denis, in October 1948. I remember Aunt Gert but only vaguely. My paternal grandfather, Victor, was one of eight children and he and at least two of his siblings, died in 1968 when I was 11/12 years old. Memories of sitting outside the church in the car, during what seemed to be an endless series of funerals, abound. So, finding this letter gave me quite a jolt. Knowing my mother’s love of dogs makes it all the more special. The letter itself is quite hard to decipher, so…

  • Living Between the Lines

    Going up in the world!

    I have moved up in the world (upstairs to be precise). My desk and files are now sitting in a spare front bedroom, (the bed being replaced by a sofa bed). This will be my new ‘study’. I love it already. The move was probably long overdue, I am no longer the only one in the house during the day. My husband and my dear friend, have both set up office space in the house. Lockdown is easing but my dear husband is showing no signs of wanting to make the daily journey to the office and much as I like meeting him for a coffee or lunch during the…

  • Living Between the Lines,  Mum is the word

    When Inspiration Strikes…

    A trip back to my late mother’s house in Essex, unearthed a real gem recently. The small, blue, notebook was crammed with recipes, some written on the pages in her neat, cursive hand, others culled from newspapers and bearing stories of mystery and intrigue on the back of a recipe for peanut butter cookies and trifle. These stories are sometimes just a headline, sometimes whole paragraphs…never the whole story. What a feast for the imagination! My mother started collecting the recipes when she married my father in October 1948, perhaps even before that! Having survived all these years, the pages are yellowed and worn with time but there is a…