June 12th Lake Windermere The annual family gathering by the lake always starts the same way: pinescented air, folding tables under the porch, the gentle lapping...
I often think back to those days when I was a thinspun widow who lived on a modest pension. One crisp autumn morning, I took my...
Dear Diary, I was already lateagain latefor the meeting with the maître d’ of The White Rose, the upscale restaurant in Mayfair where my wedding is...
Never stop believing in happiness Once, in the reckless bloom of youth, Emily wandered into a bustling fair in Brighton. A gypsy with eyes as dark...
I awoke in my tenstorey council block on a damp morning in Manchester, the walls as thin as tissue paper, so a neighbours sneeze reverberates through...
Simon slammed his mug onto the saucer with a clang that sounded like a distant church bell. The tea splashed across the tablecloth, spreading a brown...
Enough with the handsy, Victor hissed, his voice low as he paced the highceilinged drawingroom, constantly straightening his perfectly slickedback hair. Sorry for the bluntness, but...
Imagine I’m sitting in the cosy corner of The Savoy, watching my eightyearold son, Daniel, stare at the candlelit tables. Im Alexander Grant, the head of...
At our yearly family gathering by the mistcovered lake in the Lake District, my sixyearold daughter tugged at my shirt and begged to run off and...
Margaret Williams never thought of herself as extraordinary. She lives modestly in the little village of Bramley, surviving on a teachers pension after decades in state...