My mum

You simply must read this post by one of my former students, Madeleine Perham. Beautifully said. *dabs at eyes with tissue*

Stay back, I have a Book!

It’s the kind of love that sends you soaring – and the kind where you slam doors with an almighty force and heaven help who comes into your room. The kind of love where you can’t hug them any tighter; the kind where you (hypothetically) stand on a cliff top, hair streaming in the breeze, loving with the surety and pureness of a power ballad.

Though the time we stood on a clifftop I was ten, and clung to her jeans refusing to look at the sunrise. My family, understandably, were slightly miffed – after all, you only see the Grand Canyon once. But Mum knows I’m afraid of heights.

I don’t often take the chance to tell my mum how much I love her. I say ‘I love you’ – we have a joke about the depth of this love that we borrowed from ‘Guess How Much I Love…

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