Dear david

When journalist and author Hunter Davies lost his wife of more than 50 years, the novelist Margaret Forster, he began writing to her instead

When I needed him most, Dad was there to guide me.

To the joggers, dog walkers and pram pushers, we must have been a familiar sight. Even the seagulls who cruised the sky scanning for any discarded sandwich crusts and fish and chip wrappers seemed to

I’VE never met anyone who writes letters before. Not with actual pen and writing paper.” From the way Abbie is looking at me, anyone could be forgiven for thinking I am in the middle of some complicat

I WAS only five when Elaine first came into my life. She was tall and dark skinned, with a perfume that smelled of roses and big necklaces in bright colours that bounced as she laughed. Whenever my da

Choirmaster Jack became a rock for Elina. But some things didn’t quite add up…