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Letter to my Daughter on the Eve of her Wedding

Watching the Royal Wedding, I was struck by how alone the Bride’s mother appeared. I was reminded of the day my daughter was married and how many mixed emotions there were swirling through my mind, and I wanted to give the new Duchess’ mother, Doria, a huge hug! I wonder what she said to her daughter as they travelled to the chapel?

This is the letter I wrote to my daughter:

Dear Katy,

So here we are on the eve of your wedding – your last day as a Blackwell. Tomorrow you will make the biggest commitment of your life so far and all your family and friends will gather together to witness the vows that you – and Frank – are about to make.

The day is yours, but your marriage belongs also to family and society at large, for a wedding is not just about the joining together of two people, but the beginning of a family unit. Whether that remains the two of you, or whether you are blessed with children, I know that you both will take that responsibility...

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Whose Hands?

ageing humour May 17, 2018

Whose hands are these?

WARNING: IF YOU ARE ONE OF MY CHILDREN, (OR GENERALLY OF A NERVOUS DISPOSITION) DO NOT READ ON. I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR HORROR AND EMBARRASSMENT IF YOU IGNORE THIS NOTICE.

I could write reams about the sadness I feel at the slow, but relentless degradation of my body. I shall skim over the details lest it put you off your skinny latte, suffice to say that I now have more curves than angles and about as much spring-back-ability in my skin as a piece of broken knicker elastic.

I’ve changed my mind – have a few details: I now have what I like to call “silver highlights”, though who I think would actually sit in the hairdresser’s with foils on their head to achieve this effect I have no idea. Over time, my foundation wear (what a lovely, old-fashioned phrase!) has become more about containment and less about boasting and I sometimes find myself hunting for “comfortable” knickers. You know, ladies, the kind that...

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