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Good Times
Good Times March 2019 The Sunday fortnightly visits to my paternal grandparents were usually regarded as a chore by my mother, but I remember them with great warmth and fondness. We usually came home with generous gifts of fruit and vegetables from Grandpa’s garden and Grandma always had a tiered cake-stand loaded with sweets – black balls, barleysugars and licorice allsorts. I used to peel the coloured layers from the allsorts and give the unwonted licorice to my brother, who liked the unusual taste. Grandma had a part-time job at a Point Chevalier sweet factory and shop. I went into the shop with her once, in school holidays and was captivated by a display of sugar mice and handsome marzipan penguins. Next Easter Sunday I was delighted to receive a beautiful penguin of my own, and lovingly held it stroked and admired it and carried it around in my pocket for some days until a stern ultimatum was given – "Eat...
True Colours
True Colours May 2017 My Irish grandmother was full of puzzling sayings - "He sees everything in black and white", or "She's showing her true colours." Was everything black and white in the olden days when you were young, Grandma? I wondered why the whole family laughed at me – after all I knew her world had no colours – what about all those albums full of black-and-white photographs in the Charlie Chaplin films she took me to see? The life back in Ireland only seemed to be black-and-white because the priests...
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