Updated: Jul 14, 2019
As usual at weekends, Emi and I travelled to Wakefield to visit my mother. She will be 91 years old next month. She is frail but as sharp as a knife mentally. Can't get my head around the fact that she was only 20 years old when I was born, way back in 1948.
As I've mentioned so often in this journal, time plays strange tricks with our perception of events and their sequence. In the essential core of me, I'm still a wide-eyed kid of the 1950s, dreaming science fiction dreams, lost in a magical realm of wonder and imagination.