Generation gap

I WOKE up after a vivid dream of Eleanor. I’d had quite a few recently. Eleanor was my half-sister. She was older than me – the daughter of Dad’s first wife, Dorrie. My mum only found out he had a fir

MY mum and dad don’t live together. They split up two years ago, when I was eight. I mostly live with Mum, in our cosy semi-detached house where I have my own bedroom. But I also have my own room in D

WHAT do you think, Zara?” Mum says, pulling her hair above her ears. “Hair up or down?” “Remind me where you’re going.” “To the cinema. And possibly for a drink afterwards.” “The cinema seats have hig

C laire Whitmore was positive ‘it’ had started. ...

OPEN wide!” my little sister Mia cried, as she clambered up beside Dad on the sofa. “OK, but you’re just having a look,” Dad answered, lowering his newspaper to his lap. “No poking about in there.” He

IN AN AGE OF COMPARISON CULTURE AND GLOSSY SOCIAL-MEDIA LIVES, IT’S HARD NOT TO QUESTION YOUR OWN PROGRESS. BUT THERE’S NO RIGHT PATH TO LIFE AS THESE WOMEN, WHO ARE TURNING CONVENTION ON ITS HEAD AND SHARING WISDOM AS THEY GO, DEMONSTRATE…