My book ‘a farthing cone’ (see trilogy ‘icecreams’) tells the story of my mother’s childhood in London. As a child she was impulsive, inquisitive and somewhat strong willed. These traits remained with her for the rest of her life. She achieved much, was very big hearted and never lost her sense of adventure. On June the 7th she would have been 95 years old. Here is a picture I stumbled across the other day. Taken Christmas morning 1989 Mum had opened a present, dashed to the other room and changed into it and returned in all her splendour. She was seventy years old at the time. Happy Birthday Mum!