nostalgia
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Last week, it was California Dreamin’, this week it’s Moonlight Shadow by Mike Oldfield that holds a special memory for me. There I was, eleven years old, glumly trudging round the shops with Mum and Dad, when I saw it – the sign. It was in the shop window of Clarks shoe shop – ‘Free…
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When I was about five years old, my father bought me my first comic. It was called Twinkle (which ran from 1968-1999) and came out weekly. I thought it was wonderful. Dad had a paper delivered daily and set up a weekly order for Twinkle as I was so taken with it. I loved the…
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This week’s guest writer is someone you may know. I’m delighted to feature Linda Bethea whose blog is nutsrok. Her guest post is so entertaining and she makes her relatives come bursting to life: Southern Fried Crazy We do love our crazy folks down South. Oh, we may not want them right up in the…
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Welcome to my regular guest writer slot. This week it’s the turn of another Swannicker (name for a writer who has attended Swanwick Writing Summer School) to take the spotlight. Graham Clift has a natural ability to draw us in and to entertain us with his non-fiction writing. I’m currently reading Graham’s first memoir, North Facing…
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I heard it on the radio When it came to radio stations, my father and I clashed. He was a big BBC Radio Two fan and would always listen to the breakfast show. As a teenager I thought it too dated, but it was Dad’s radio, so who was I to argue? Luckily, he had…
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School Visits During my secondary school days, in the 1980s, we had two celebrity visitors. The first was Margaret Thatcher. I remember the buzz of excitement in the school in the days leading up to her visit. The Prime Minister was coming to our school! In little old Newbury. My mother and father thought Maggie…
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It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I first learned my great grandfather, Arnold John Deller, had been wine butler to the Royal Family – to Queen Alexandra, wife of King Edward VII, and her son, King George V. My grandmother, Joan, was a private woman and didn’t talk about herself or her…
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It wasn’t until I was sorting out my bureau, ready for a house move, that I realised how many programmes I’d amassed over the years. Looking back, I think it’s a habit I picked up from my father. Right from when I was a little girl, wherever we went, whether it was a trip to…
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A Plumb Job Growing up in Newbury, Berkshire, with a racecourse on my doorstep, many would think it was inevitable that I spent some time there. I did, though many of my friends haven’t ever set foot on the course. But their father wasn’t the racecourse plumber for forty-four years. As mine was, it meant…
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When I was growing up, going to London was a rare and special treat. So when Dad asked me if I’d like to go with him to see the sights and to The National Gallery, I jumped at the chance. Nearly forty years ago and I still remember it well. We had a lovely day…
Esther Chilton 