Memory: A picture and some words / 30 January 2015
The two greatest loves of my mother's life were the colour green and dancing.
She dressed in green as often as possible and drooled at green items in shop windows.
Dancing was an escape from drudge, the hope and potential for wealth and glamour. But it was among the many things my mother took too seriously to enjoy, so it was never fun.
She took me to a dancing lesson, possibly just the one because I was in hospital for most of my childhood.
We lived in Romford Essex at the time. We traipsed (my mother never walked for pleasure) along traffic-filled streets to a half-derelict building with huge warehouse doors.
On bare boards, little feet that had never had it so good hopped and skipped, out of time with the pre-war piano.
I was scared.
An exercise for the Writing Lives online course I'm doing: