My Mum and Dad have been decluttering recently, before an escape to The Good Life and selling their home of 25 years. This means a few hidden gems have turned up, which have been gathering dust for a very long time. Like a letter from my sister, aged 6.
Reading this letter now, as a mum myself, makes me hope Frog will one day have a younger sibling. There’s nothing quite like sisters and brothers for bringing you down a peg or two… Continue reading
There’s a woman who lives in Derby. She’s 87, has five children and is extremely kind. She’s also rather funny and far too generous for her own good.
Her name is Nana, or Anita if you want to get all formal.
One of my earliest memories is receiving a present. I was about two and a half and this present was pretty much the most amazing present I could have ever imagined. It was a huge doll called Lucy, which Nana had lugged on the train all the way from Derby to Bristol. I still have her now (although she has a little less hair after I decided to practice my hairdressing skills on her as a teenager). Continue reading
When we first looked around the house we live in now, we were so excited by the fact it had a dishwasher, we didn’t realise there was no fridge.
On the day we moved in to our home, three weeks late because of heavy snow, we ended up having to keep the milk outside in the back garden while we waited for a fridge to be delivered.
But it didn’t matter, because we had a shed: Continue reading
It’s funny how something as simple as an item of clothing can bring back so many memories.
There’s the first tutu my mum made for me when I was four. I can still hear it tear as my friend attempted to lift me in a less-than-graceful balletic manouvre. Then there’s the white dress I bought in Camden on a trip with my mum and sister and later wore on the first night I ever met the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine.
And there’s the little red shirt. Continue reading