Tag Archives: Mother

Summer Holiday Nostalgia

As children we were fortunate to have a house at the seaside*. A shack, really, that to me was a palace beyond palaces. It was four rooms. Five, if you counted the bathroom that sat in the garden, a scary-when-you’re-9-years-old … Continue reading

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Christmas Eve and My Mother’s Sewing

I have spoken before of our beloved seaside shack, where we spent carefree, salt-skinned, sun-kissed holidays each year in December throughout my childhood. It’s the place in the world that, when I think of it, I can smell the sea … Continue reading

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Motherly Cocktail Naming

My mother has been referred to by many people the occasional person as eccentric. She becomes more so as she gets older. A couple of years ago, pre-Women’s Day – a public holiday here on the tip of Africa, in remembrance of … Continue reading

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Word Power

*Post-publishing edit… Please excuse that final paragraph’s self-helpy sound. Ugh. I was thinking about words the other day. How, when strung together, they hold such power. From there it got me thinking about sentences, conversations, lines in books that have … Continue reading

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Mortality

As a child, we had a swing made out of a long length of fraying rope tied to the Plain tree on our front pavement, with an old car tyre attached to it. I spent hours in it, swinging higher … Continue reading

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The Church Fete

My mother is a church-goer, unlike the rest of my family. She has, for the past ten years, tried to get me to come to the annual church fete. I decided this past Saturday to be the dutiful daughter and … Continue reading

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Flashbacks in a Fabric Shop

My mother sews, beautifully. She made all of our clothes as children, much to our chagrin as teenagers, when all I longed for was just one item of clothing with a label (the ingratitude of adolescents!) She still sews for … Continue reading

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