At the stationery and toy shop in White River, I bought a card for my mother’s birthday. This expensive indulgence took a considerable slice of my pocket-money, but it was worth it, for card bore a satin pillow with puce flowers printed on it surrounded by every frill and flounce, lace and ribbon imaginable, along with golden letters stating ‘Mother’ and ‘Love.’ Inside was a poem that rhymed, embossed in gold.


By the next year I had worked out that the card was in ‘bad taste’ and was embarrassed by it, especially as Lesley’s domain was taste. I found it again about twenty-five years later when, during the course of disposing of her estate, I was sorting through the few old letters and cards she had kept.


Next Page

Part 1       Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7      Part 8     Part 9     Part 10


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: