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My son never turned up for my seventieth birthday, claiming work held him back. Later that evening, I

The cab pulled up to the house and stopped dead when a figure appeared in the window his longlost wife. Enough!

28September So today I finally crossed the threshold of the new bedroom thats now minewell, technically

28April I woke to the soft clink of the kettle and the familiar hum of the old house that my late Aunt

Dorothy Peterson had decided to hand over her flat to her son and move in with her daughter, ignoring

— Wie lange willst du das noch ertragen? hörte ich die Stimme meiner verstorbenen Oma, die mich

Diary 12October Its been seven years now that Eleanor and I have called the flat on Camden Street our home.

Do you still need me?James, please, let me go We tried to build a life together, but it fell apart.

En mis padres había aquel amor del que muchos sólo sueñan. No era brillante, ni ruidoso, ni ostentoso

Dear Diary, This morning I awoke on the cold stone floor of the cemetery, a thin cardboard blanket pressed