Like many people around the world, especially perhaps those of us who grew up in Britain but now live elsewhere, I felt a sense of loss when I heard that our Queen had died. The news destroyed my stiff upper lip completely, and I cried for the Queen who’d been part of my life since…
As you may know, I recorded the audiobook of my memoir a few weeks ago, and it’s finally available for preorder (delivery on May 7). I recorded it at the marvelous Verso Studios at the Westport Library – one of the best Library recording studios in the country, with a fabulous engineer, Travis, who made…
I had to cut this scene from the memoir, for reasons of length – but I think you might enjoy it… When the movers’ truck pulled up in front of the house in Fairfield, Connecticut, a week after we’d arrived from Chicago in June 1983, I couldn’t wait to see how my furniture would…
With only two months to go before Love’s Journey Home arrives in the world, I thought you might like to know a little more about Jay and me. We used to love to travel together, and here’s a quick story about one such trip that’s not in the book… Jay and I are visiting Gloucester…
There’s so much pressure on a person these days. I was born with a Victorian mind, I think. At least in some respects. Making a Valentine from a lacy white paper doily, a cut-out red velvet heart, and some pink ribbon would have been just my speed. Inside, I would have written: To Algernon (for…
I get a little choked up when I think about the fact that my memoir, Love’s Journey Home, will be launched into the world on May 7 this year. It would have been my 39th wedding anniversary. Ridiculously long ago. But here’s how the day went… On the morning of May 7, 1983, I woke…
My memoir, Love’s Journey Home, includes a description of decorating the Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving. This is how acquiring a tree happened for most of the thirty years we were married: Christmas always demanded a perfect conifer. In his mind’s eye, Jay (my husband) saw a tree that reached the ceiling, but wasn’t…
[5 minute read] It was mid-December, and I needed money to buy Christmas presents. I was seventeen, and had found a Saturday job at Russell & Bromley, the most exclusive shoe shop in the London suburb where we lived. In 1966, this kind of job paid less than a pound for a day’s work, plus…
