A poignant pilgrimage

IT was two days until Christmas and the afternoon sky was blue and crisp as Lydia’s car pulled up in front of the magnificent Bristol Hotel. Why was it called the Bristol? she wondered. It was nowhere

RUTH climbed the narrow path to Windlow Hill. She had a canvas bag in one hand and her mother’s old cardigan tucked under the other. Below, the village looked almost as it had in her childhood – white

IT’S all over town, Ada,” Mrs Francome declared, leaning forward with her basket. “Butter and bacon to be rationed once Christmas ends! “That’ll be just the start, mark my words.” “It’s already starte

MAUD had been looking forward to finally getting her decorations out again. And now with a whole afternoon at her disposal she was really going to savour the experience and make it something special.

It was going to be a quiet festive season for me, just the way I liked it (I told myself). I’d gone back to spend Christmas with my parents in our small home town. This year, however, Mum and Dad were

Each month, a reader writes to a loved one in the afterlife and Mandy Masters tunes in to share their reply. This time, Julie Morris writes to her mum Marjorie