Childhood . Fear
WhereWolf
On February 8, 2026 by Speranza
When I was five or six years old, we lived in an older home that had push-button light switches; in fact, they literally looked like 2 licorice all-sorts ( the black and white ones with that snowy core of coconutty icing) had been inserted into the wall.
I assume this was some ancient electrical system but to my young eye at the time it seemed the pinnacle of elegance. (Yes, I harbored faint, middle class longings for a somehow yet-to-be-discovered aristocracy even then …)
Childhood . My Mother . Nostalgia
Make Mine a Troll
On May 29, 2026 by Speranza
Anyone who knows me well has heard about my devotion to “Trolls” (aka “Gonks” in the UK) the popular, hi-liter haired dolls that were very popular in the sixties. While other girls were collecting the newest Barbie, it’s probably quite telling in some weird psychological way that I was never impressed or even remotely interested in regular dolls and instead much preferred my growing tribe of Trolls. Each one had a different hair colour, including two with striking, snow-white tresses whom I presumed to be elderly and accordingly named Martha and Frank. I saved diligently to increase my collection whenever possible and expanded to include the tiny Trolls sold as pencil toppers or key-chain danglers although their hair was never the same caliber as the larger ones and would routinely tear off in one piece, like a bright conical flame with a stiff headband of adhesive.
This was always a sad moment because a bald Troll is suddenly a bit too close to a perverted uncle for anyone’s liking.
Childhood . Music . My Mother . Nostalgia
Club Django and More
On October 9, 2025 by Speranza
Last week a friend (actually, two separate friends, who both know me well) invited me to come along and hear Club Django. I do love hearing bands play live and I particularly like this kind of music but sometimes it seems like too much trouble after a long day at work and the concept of coming home and going out again seems unbearable.
Still, as noted here before, I find Klezmer (or so-called ‘Gypsy Jazz’) reliably cheering so my friends collected me at the especially odd time of 2pm and we moved out of the glinty sunshine into a darker venue to catch Club Django in concert.
And from the opening notes, I was so, so happy that I did.
Childhood . My Mother . Nostalgia
A Handbag?
On September 19, 2025 by Speranza
I cannot imagine the following anecdote ever happening now, (especially when I consider the many superior ‘Yummy Mummies’ I often encounter) but back in the day, one of my own mother’s favourite go-to activities to amuse me (in a pinch) was the privilege of reorganizing her handbag for her.
I know, I know; but I really liked doing it and felt important knowing that I had been entrusted with such an intimate and grown-up task.
Once I had corralled together all the rumpled tissues that were still scented with Chanel No.5 and helped myself to a stick of Wrigley’s spearmint gum, I moved on to the trio of lipsticks found in one of the pockets. The trio seldom varied and obviously, I tried each one (this goes without saying) but I assessed the packaging first, deciding which was the most elegant, the slimmest, the most bejeweled.
Childhood . My Fiction . Writing
Hounds-Tooth
On November 1, 2025 by SperanzaA tiny slit of light creaks through the ill-fitting wardrobe door even after it clicks shut behind me. Under different circumstances to these I might feel self conscious, or perhaps unbalanced. But the pain of loss has driven me here, and I care nothing for such thoughts. The coat hangers move quickly under my touch whining the screech of steel on steel, till at last I find what I want. It slips around my shoulders easily, enveloping me in its scent and at once I breathe in a thousand memories. The smell of spearmint gum still lingers in the pocket, and the faint tang of old-fashioned shaving soap comes up to me from the warmth. This coat is a traditional hounds’ tooth tweed, but worn soft and the lining still glows cheerfully, a dull vermilion red like the inside of a magicians’ cloak.
