I'd intended to write a daily journal of an ordinary life through this uncharted time but it hasn't happened. Instead, two weeks into lockdown, the prevailing impression is of the quiet.
No ordinary quiet
A proper Sunday lunch
This story of what is was like on family visits to my grandparents is published online in the Spring 2022 issue of The Longridge Review. You can read it there: the constraints on our behaviour that gave rise to anxiety and boredom, and the things that made it special. Actually, I admired my grandmother despite what you may think after reading it. And thanks to my brother Chris who volunteered to take the rap for the broken window when we couldn't remember who the culprit really was.
Through the front door
‘There must’, we said, ‘be a back exit’. But a mental scan of the corridor outside revealed no discreet service lift. Just a series of hotel-like rooms and, opening up in the other direction, the bland living and dining area, then through that to the large lifts down to the ground floor and further below, … Continue reading Through the front door
The loveliness of lists
Lists are not the bane of my life, far from it. Without lists, my life would be as bereft as a day without music, as soulless as a world with books, and as empty as a fridge without cheese.
Letting go of the children (or, I’ve not got Alzheimers yet)
Kahil Gibran wrote that your children are not your children. Even as a student in the 1970s I recognised the truth in what he said. And it turns out, bringing up children is a series of letting go's, from taking your hands off the back of the two-wheeler bike to walking away on the first … Continue reading Letting go of the children (or, I’ve not got Alzheimers yet)
Leaky orange Mazda, baby, and me
After years in the corporate world, I was more than ready to embrace the role of earth mother. Of course, that's not quite what happened.
Chasing clouds: tracing the Wordsworth connection
My efforts to pin down the family connection to the poet William Wordsworth have been like the clouds that float high above the hills and vales of the Lake District which inspired him. They’re real but constantly moving; they seem sometimes to come together, then they change direction and are off again. Like family history research, they are quite unpredictable.
Is this really Spring: Wellington in September
An ode to Wellington where despite the winds, spring brings quiet exhilaration and exuberance.
The pretty red dress that Nana sent
Two small-town girls go to stay with their Nana and Pop in the city and discover they live life in a much richer way.
Clara’s story: memories of Rippon Lea
Clara Wordsworth Sargood grew up in comfort and affluence at Rippon Lea in Melbourne in Queen Victoria's time. She vividly recounts stories of a happy childhood, the heartbreaking loss of her mother, and the thrills of sea voyages to England and New Zealand.
Fragments of an ordinary life 