Sometimes it’s easy to remember where you were on a certain date, what you were doing. Kennedy’s assassination, Diana’s death, the twin towers – those big, shared experiences. And some of the big royal occasions. For a non-Royalist, how odd that big moments in my life seem to have been marked by the Queen’s jubilees. Continue reading
Growing up seems to me to be a process of stretching the elastic then finally letting go of the metaphorical apron strings. The first time you go out alone on your bike, the first time you go out alone to the disco, the first time you drive your car without your instructor. Continue reading
It’s the end of May. How much has changed in the past year. Continue reading
“Oh you’re SOOoooo lucky!” I get told that a lot. Of course I know I’m lucky. What’s more, I remind myself every day. Probably every hour. But it’s not because I live in two beautiful places and have the freedom to enjoy them. It’s certainly not for the reasons most people mean when they say “Oh you’re SOOoooo lucky!” Continue reading
Traditions from home and abroad mingled this year, and new traditions began as old ones were put away. The warm sun made this a very different Christmas from those of previous years, plus a new village, new neighbours, and the first Christmas in 54 years without Mum. Continue reading
“Christopher Robin was going away.” Possibly the most tear-jerking words in the whole canon of children’s literature. The opening line of “The House at Pooh Corner” – chapter ten “In Which Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place and We Leave Them There.”
It makes tough reading, even for grown-ups. Continue reading
A motorbike, two heads of antlers, a billiard table and a bonsai tree. Somebody’s idea of the 5 most important things to take to Spain. I suppose it must make sense to them. Conveniently, the person who had booked three quarters of Graham’s transit van for their antlers and other valuables, had left room at the back for my stuff. Continue reading
A day for quiet contemplation. A day for walking in the campo, reflecting on wonderful memories of my special mother on the day that would have been her 82nd birthday. The first one without her ….. the first of many such firsts, sadly. Reflecting too on 2012 as it slowly disappears over the horizon. A year of sorrow, loss, endings and beginnings. Continue reading
The discussions which arose from Blog numbers 7 & 10 about where “home” is and what makes it “home” have made me think a great deal about how and why it is that I can feel so quickly content almost anywhere. It made me think again about my mother’s extraordinary travel history, and wonder if I’ve inherited some sort of “travel gene” from her.
My mum’s mother had escaped the Russian Revolution as a child. Mum herself was born in 1930 in a village outside Danzig when it was a Free City-State, so in that sense she was truly a child of the whole world, not constrained by national boundaries. Continue reading
A Foot in Two Campos 