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place memories

When I was a kid, I was convinced my father knew the way from anywhere to everywhere. He knew every road and short cut in London, and seemingly across the country. He drove with confidence, recognising the signs of building traffic …

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Smell Memory

My mother bought the house where she now lives, a concrete 1960s ex-council house that is nothing like the red-brick Victorian architecture she adores, because it has a walk in pantry. Like the one in her childhood home. On first viewing the house …

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The citadel

“Stag beetles don’t like leylandii. It’s too acidic.”

But my mother is emphatic. She wants a log pile and she wants to use remains of the thirty foot Leyland cypresses …

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