My Clarice Cliff Cup

My mother and I had little in common. Still, I occasionally deigned to accompany her to an antique and collectible fair on a Sunday afternoon. She was a pretty creature whose style model was probably Grace Kelly circa 1955. My mother delighted in dainty ornaments, china dogs, plates decorated with trailing wisteria, and art nouveau Read more

My Dead Tooth

The process of decay and loss began on a bright autumn day in 1981. I was standing in the queue at the bus stop outside Whitworth Park opposite the Manchester Royal Infirmary. I could see Danny walking on the road, coming in my direction. Arms flailing, he was shouting incoherently, as usual, alternating between threats Read more

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