Autobiography: Part Three

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Autobiography: Part Three

Autobiography: Part Three

My next memory, is of sitting looking out the kitchen window, and seeing a soldier walking by every few minutes or so. I didn’t tell mum, because she got upset when I told her things like that, because she didn’t see them. When I was older, I realized he was dressed in the uniform of the Queen’s guard. I had no way of knowing that then, as we had no TV, and didn’t get newspapers. It wasn’t until we watched her coronation on my grandma’s TV in 1953, that I knew what I had seen. I had a baby doll

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Autobiography: Part Two

Autobiography: Part Two

I remember. I remember. I remember being born. When I was born I knew. I could think like an adult, but I wasn’t. I remember being cold, wet, and frightened. I remember a man with brown hair, horn rimmed glasses, and a white coat. He was holding me, and then he put me down into something. I think it might’ve been a cot. He looked at me and then he turned around and walked away and he looked blurred through my tears. My next memory is of my mother holding me and feeding me, and looking up and seeing my

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Autobiography: Part One

Autobiography: Part One

I was lying in bed the other night, having trouble falling asleep, (well, more so than usual, anyway). There were a multitude of thoughts tumbling through my head, mostly to do with needing to get back to writing the second book in the Penelope Parker trilogy. Then a thought popped into my head out of nowhere; I really know nothing about my mother or her life. Oh, I knew where and when she was born, but I knew nothing of her childhood, beyond a couple of old photos, taken when she was about five or six. I knew nothing of

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