Debbie Young's Blog, page 46

Like Peas in a Pod

My column from the June issue of the Hawkesbury Parish News

No, he hadn’t just walked all the way from John O’Groats

When I posted a photo of my dad on Facebook yesterday, a friend who hadn’t seen him for decades remarked how similar we are. That’s nothing, I told her – you should see how much I resemble his mother. I added a picture of my Grandma, aged 60 when I was born, by way of demonstration.

Only then did I realise that my older brother is about to turn 60, and how much he looks like our father and our grandfather. When family resemblances are so strong, it’s easy to see why older people often call relatives by the wrong names. Grandma often resorted to a roll call of possible candidates, stopping only when she hit the right person: “Thelma, Sheila, Merna, Mandy, Debbie.” At least she didn’t include the cat, unlike my friend’s mother, much to her disgust.

My Grandma

When did my brother and I become this old? I should take comfort from recent reports that no-one should now be considered old until they hit 85. I prefer my own definition, which works on a sliding scale of my current age + 10 years. The elegance of this system is its “jam tomorrow” principle: by definition, I will never grow old.

I also recommend the ploy of marrying a Mr Young, another way to ensure I remain forever Young. It’s also a great incentive to avoid divorce.

I knew there was a good reason for doing this…

Filed under: family, father, grandparents, Hawkesbury Parish News, husband Tagged: family likeness, hereditary

On Brunel, Bears, Birthdays and Banting (oh, and Type 1 Diabetes)

A post about my first official talk as a volunteer speaker for JDRF

Earlier this year I trained as an official volunteer speaker for the JDRF, the leading charitable fundraiser for research into a cure for Type 1 diabetes, which affects both my husband and our daughter. The training day was held at the the London headquarters of the UK branch of this global charity, bringing together dozens of volunteers whose lives had been affected in some way by this incurable, serious disease. We had an uplifting, inevitably emotional day sharing our experiences as we practised our talks. For some participants, it was the first time they’d ever talked publicly about their illness (or their child’s, depending on who had it).

Once trained, we’re obliged to do at least three talks per year, which is fine by me, and I was excited to receive my first assignment, to speak to Morning Break, a group for toddlers and their carers, in Nailsea, south of Bristol.

A Journey Suspended

How fitting that I had to give in this coin – the only money I had in my purse – at the toll booth to get 2 x £1 coins for the machine

Despite the satnav taking me a VERY scenic route (why do i ever trust it?), I enjoyed the journey via the Clifton Suspension Bridge – always a joy to cross, despite the fact that the toll has now gone up to £1 each way.

The lovely group organiser made me very welcome, and took me into the church hall to speak. The audience comprised about 20 mums plus a dad, and a grandma whose grandson was recently diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.  I told them all about the JDRF, about the work they do in quest of a cure, prevention, and in the meantime better therapy; shared my own story (partly taken from my book, pictured below); and then gave them ideas of what they could do to help.

Supporting the charity doesn’t necessarily involve donating money. It’s also really helpful simply to tell other people about the charity’s work, to aid name recognition in a charity-crowded world, and make others more likely to contribute – particularly big corporates.

After a chat with a few parents before leaving (I’m not giving details due to confidentiality), I left the hall feeling pleased to have completed a kind of initiation rite into being an official JDRF speaker, but when I reached the car, I had to sit quietly for a few moments to gather my thoughts.

The Aftermath

My trusty companion for JDRF talks: mascot bear Ruby, given to Laura by the charity when she was diagnosed, with felt patches showing where it was safe to inject her insulin doeses.

At the training day, the trainer forewarned us that the experience might be emotionally draining, reminding us of the trauma that we’d been through – something we tend to downplay in our daily lives. Well, we just have to get on with it.

For me, having to speak to a playgroup was especially poignant, because it was during Laura’s playgroup era that, almost exactly 8 years ago, on 10 May 2007, she was rushed to hospital for her own diagnosis. In between being devastated by the news, I was also anxious, as I sat by her hospital bed, that she wouldn’t be out of hospital in time for her fourth birthday party 13 days later. Returning to playgroup was a major step towards re-establishing normal life – or rather, our new normal, of living with Type 1 diabetes. Her birthday party went ahead, though I don’t remember the details – it was probably overshadowed by everything else that was going on.

Eight Years On

In three days’ time, Laura will turn 12, and she doesn’t remember life without Type 1 diabetes. But we hope that in her lifetime: a cure will be found so that:

Laura will discover what it’s like not to have an infusion pump permanently attached to her as life-support
she’ll no longer have fingertips covered in little black dots, numerous tiny scars of the multiple daily fingerprick blood tests that she has to do to keep her blood glucose at a safe level
not just our family but others will benefit around the world, especially in countries where insulin therapy is unavailable or unaffordable

In such countries, a diagnosis of Type 1 diabetes is still a death sentence, though technically it ceased to be back in 1928, when Dr Frederick Banting identified the use of insulin to treat it and, with extraordinary generosity, sold the production rights for $1 to the Univeristy of Toronto, rather than seeking a patent, so that everyone could benefit.

Diabetes research pioneer Dr Frederick Banting: great mind, big heart (photo: Wikipedia)

I was therefore very grateful to have this opportunity to use our family’s story to raise awareness of JDRF’s work. I’ll be happy to go spread the word anywhere where people are prepared to listen. But for today, I’m even happier, thanks to Dr Banting, to be able to plan Laura’s 12th birthday party.

If you’d like to find out more about our family’s experience of Type 1 diabetes, read my book, Coming to Terms with Type 1 Diabetes  , available to order from all good bookshops and online. All profits to JDRF.

Coming soon: Sugar, Sugar , an upbeat guide to how to stay sane when you’ve got Type 1 diabetes in the family – to be published for World Diabetes Day, 14 November 2015.

To find out more about the JDRF, visit its website – here’s the UK address, but they’ll have local country sites all around the world: www.jdrf.org.uk.

Filed under: daughter, husband, JDRF, parenting Tagged: Brunel, Clifton Suspension Bridge, Frederick Banting, JDRF, Ruby the diabetic bear, t1d, toc, type 1 diabetes

History is Relative

How long ago does something have to take place before you consider it to be history?

Getting our fix on a Sunday night

Last night, my eleven-year-old daughter and I were watching Oliver and Company, an old Disney film on our newly-acquired Netflix. Based loosely (very loosely) on Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist, it was one that neither of us had seen before, most likely because it was made at a time when I was way too old to be following the studio’s output, and before Laura was even born.

Although the film’s animation technology was very dated – think old-style Tom and Jerry rather than Frozen – it was a pleasing enough tale, starring the almost obligatory cute kitten, and its predictable yet agreeable plot provided a relaxing way to round off the weekend.

One moment, though, caught me by surprise, about two-thirds of the way through, when a wall calendar is visible, clearly dated 1988.

1984 1988

Laura, with self-assured world view of the nearly-teenager

“1988!” my daughter scoffs, with the assured and superior laugh of the nearly-teen.

Her response rather took me aback. 1988? Why, that’s only yesterday! I’d just started my fourth job, bought my first house, and was settling down with the man I was going to marry. In short, I was in my prime. Ahem, still am, thank you very much. But ancient history? Hardly.

Then, after a quick burst of mental arithmetic, I realised that to Laura, who will turn 12 next Saturday, 1988 must seem as distant as 1945 does to me, i.e. falling precisely 15 years before I was born. 1945? Second World War? That’s history lesson stuff, far removed from my own experience – or so I’d have thought when I was her age. (My husband and I also watched The Railway Man on Saturday, reminding us of the ongoing impact of World War II.)

When Does the Present Become the Past?

The definition of history is surely determined by the relationship of events to any individual. I recently discovered tucked away in my study some essays I wrote in the early 1990s, not long after I’d moved to Hawkesbury Upton, where I still live. Rereading them 24 years on, I was astonished by how much the village has changed. Though it’s still a wonderful place to live, my Hawkesbury Tales now read like nostalgic social history pieces, though at the time I thought I was writing an up-to-the-minute report. I’m very glad that I recorded them, and wish that I’d written more – it’s a very slim collection.

The latest volume takes us up to the Millenium

I’m therefore very much looking forward to being a guest speaker at Tetbury History Society early next year (date to be confirmed), to which I’ve been invited as a result of my regular column in the Tetbury Advertiser. I’ll be speaking about the importance of recording details of current social life, to provide historical records for future generations – an activity in which I’ve been involved via the Hawkesbury Writers, a group of village authors who together penned three volumes in the “Monument to Hawkesbury” series, recording villagers’ recollections from throughout the 20th century.

And already, doesn’t that sound so last century?

What’s your view? How long ago does something have to have happened for you to count it as history? I’d love to know!

To read my Hawkesbury Tales, click here  – and if you read them, I’d love some feedback. I’m planning to turn them into a little book or ebook – do you think I should?

 

 

 

Filed under: daughter, Hawkesbury Life, nostalgia, Tetbury Advertiser, village life, writing Tagged: Hawkesbury Tales, Hawkesbury Upton, Hawkesbury Writers, history, Monument to Hawkesbury, nostalgia, Tetbury Advertiser

Springing into Action

(First published in the Tetbury Advertiser’s May issue)

Who knew dusting could be this dangerous?

The unseasonably warm weather after Easter makes me buck up my ideas about housework, a topic  never front-of-mind for me. With spring sunshine streaming through smudgy windows, I can no longer pretend that it’s fairy-dust adorning the piano.

I brace myself to brandish a duster and head for the under-sink cupboard. First task: awaken the cleaning materials from hibernation. Second task: dust the can of polish.

In search of a duster, I move aside a dozen blue, green and yellow bottles, mostly unopened since I bought them in an optimistic extension of the “new broom sweeps clean” theory. I’ve since decided that only applies to brooms, because brooms can be used straight after purchase without any more ado, unlike these fancy products, which require you to read small-print instructions and find accessories – cloths, sponges, buckets, or squeegees.

Some of the products I don’t even recognise. Unable to remember buying them, I half-expect their price labels to be in shillings and pence. What a good thing they don’t bear a use-by date.

In the absence of spring sunshine, the second best trigger for housework is to schedule a party, because my loathing of housework is exceeded by my fear of being branded a slob. Fear of a visitor’s judgemental finger running through the dust on top of the piano spurs me into cleaning mode, but family fingers are less effective. The “Clean Me” message that my daughter wrote in the dust on my husband’s laptop has lain undisturbed for several days.

How to Get Things Done

This notion that the best way to get something done is to do something else is what I call “Janet’s Principle”, named after my sister-in-law, who once declared, just before serving us home-made apple pie, that “The best way to clean your nails is to make pastry”.

In other areas of my life, I prefer a more direct route to results. One of my favourite mantras is “The best way to get something done is to do it”. Or alternatively hire a cleaning lady.

I wish I enjoyed vacuuming as much as Henry does

That option wouldn’t have been open to the original working-class inhabitants of my Victorian cottage. Even so, they will have kept it much cleaner than I do, with little more than a broom, a rag, and some old-fashioned soapflakes. Our forefathers didn’t need gimmicky modern products, because they had two vital ingredients that I so clearly lack: enthusiasm and elbow grease. I wonder what reaction I’d get if I asked for those in Tesco?

If you liked this month’s column, you’ll enjoy “Clean Linen”, one of 22 very short stories in my latest paperback, Quick Change, which may be ordered from The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop and other good booksellers for just £5.99. It’s also available as an ebook from the usual suspects. To be among the first to hear about my new books and events, sign up to my mailing list.

Filed under: housework, Tetbury Advertiser, The No-Housework Housework Guide Tagged: housework, how to get things done

Vote, Vote, Vote…

As anyone living in the UK will know, today there is a General Election. Opening the shutters this morning to glorious sunshine rather than the grey rain of the past few days, I wondered to what extent the fine weather would influence the end result, encouraging more people to go out to vote. 

Suddenly an old playground skipping rhyme popped into my head. The rhyme probably represents the dawning of political consciousness in my childhood – that and the fact that our local MP, Edward Heath, had been persuaded to open my brother’s school’s summer fete.

While I’m usually glad to hear my daughter (11) play clapping or skipping games that I recognise from my own childhood, this is one that I hope has by this election become obsolete.  it’s a group game, played with a very long rope, with children lining up for their turn to jump in. The name in the verse changes, according to who is skipping, and the last line is shouted as the skipper leaves the turning rope.

Vote, vote, vote for little Debbie

Calling Debbie at the door

For Debbie is the lady 

Who is going to have a baby

So we won’t vote for Debbie any more!

CHUCK HER OUT!

A decade after I last jumped to this rhyme, our country’s first female prime minister was elected: Margaret Thatcher (aka “Milk Snatcher” for abolishing free school milk for children while Minister for Education). I was astonished to discover just now that she was a year younger than me when she came to power. That would have precluded her from having babies during her term of office. Which might be one reason it took us 13 long years to chuck her out.

Whatever your political affiliations, if you are a British citizen of voting age, please make sure you use your vote. Elections really aren’t a game, as I learned from my grandmother (born 1900). She had to wait till the age of 28 to be allowed to vote. Read more about her experience and influence on my political thinking in a post that I wrote during the previous General Election:  I Wear My Vote On My Sleeve

Filed under: family, grandparents, nostalgia Tagged: clapping games, General Election, skipping games, universal suffrage, voting, women's suffrage

High Speed Hawkesbury

Me with Steve Webb, our high-speed LibDem MP, at last year’s HU5K Run. He’s everything a local MP ought to be. (Photo credit: Steve Hammond)

With my diary madly busy in April, the arrival of superfast broadband in our household was perfectly timed.

I work from home and spend a large part of every day online, and can assure you that the difference between a screen loading instantly and slowly, many times each day, can make a significant difference to one’s productivity, and not just because of the extra seconds required for every transaction.

I reckon that working with a slow connection also makes your brain slow down. It’s similar, but opposite to the effect of playing quickfire computer games, which affect at your reaction times like a double espresso. In the same way, going on the dodgems makes you drive more recklessly the next time you get into your car. (Or is that just me?)

I crowed about the arrival of our new superfast service to city-living friends to whom high speed broadband is old hat.

“No more sitting around waiting for files to download! No more giving up on videoconference meetings because the connection cuts out! My productivity is going to soar!”

One urban American Facebook remarked on his astonishment at the difference between our countries’ cultures, as if I’d announced that Britain had just discovered the steam engine. Cynical replies trickled back. “So, no more waiting around for those cat videos to download.” “Yep, all-you-can-watch iPlayer TV. I’ve never known anyone to get more done as the result of installing superfast broadband connection.”

Ah, but at least I can be less productive at higher speeds now.

Big thanks to Steve Webb, Sue Hope and all who campaigned to bring this aspect of Hawkesbury Life into the 21st century.

(This post was originally written for the May edition of the Hawkesbury Parish News.)

Filed under: Hawkesbury Parish News, writing Tagged: Hawkesbury Upton, productivity, Steve Webb, superfast broadband

The Alchemy of Stroud Short Stories

Excited to see the poster as we approached the event venue

This weekend, I was privileged to take part in a special evening of live performances by 10 Gloucestershire authors of their short stories, chosen for the latest Stroud Short Stories programme. 

Not only was my story, which also appears in my collection Quick Change, chosen from among 128 entries for inclusion, but also the event was named after its title: The Alchemy of Chocolate.

The event was held in Stroud Valley Arts, a small, intimate venue with slate grey walls and a low ceiling, cosy and inviting. 75 seats were squeezed in to accommodate the audience. Such is the reputation of Stroud Short Stories as an entertaining and enriching event that tickets, a bargain at £5 each, had  sold out weeks in advance.

On the subject of money, I ought to point out that this short story festival makes no money whatever – it’s run simply for the love of the short story and to give a platform to local authors. It’s also designed to give new, as yet unpublished writers the opportunity to share the stage with more established authors. The passion behind this voluntary project shone through in John Holland’s witty commentary and careful nurturing of both authors and audience throughout the night. Its impact was clear from meeting a young girl who had been  brought by her mother to encourage her interest in writing.

Reading My Short Story

Now available in paperback – my collection of very short stories (aka flash fiction)

I was third up on the two-part programme – a great spot as it meant the audience was already warmed up when I took the stage, and after I’d finished reading, I could relax and enjoy the remaining seven stories. As I sat waiting my turn, I was glad my friend Caroline Sanderson, who features with me on BBC Radio Gloucestershire’s Book Club slot, had come along for moral support and interest.

My reading went very well, despite spotlights shining so brightly that while on he stage I couldn’t see anyone in the audience. They could have all gone home, as far as I could tell. Fortunately, their copious laughter in all the right places in my story assured me that they were still there and hanging on my every word. I had to pause a number of times to allow the laughter to run its course, which made me feel like a stand-up comedian, in the best possible way.

It was gratifying to be approached by a number of people afterwards saying how much they had enjoyed my story and how funny it was. Several said they could relate to the heroine Jennifer, who discovers a secret recipe to turn chocolate into gold. It was lovely to see how the story chimed with them on a personal level.

I was also pleased to have several people approach me about the Hawkesbury Upton Literature Festival, having recognised me from the website. (I’d leafleted the seats with flyers for the event, which takes place next Thursday.)

Meeting Other Authors

The new Stroud Short Stories anthology

It was an especial pleasure to meet so many local authors whom I’d not met before. (I’m 25 minutes’ drive from Stroud, and the 10 of us are dispersed about the county.)

I also very much enjoyed hearing their stories, from moving tales about suicide and unrequited love to wry riffs about avant garde artwork and stem cell technology. All 10 of us had completely different stories to tell, cleverly ordered by organiser and compère John Holland, himself a gifted writer of short fiction, into a digestible and seamless whole. Here’s a shout-out for the authors and their stories:

Martin Spice Le Fromager
Philip Bowne Cows Can’t Jump
Richard Vick Ways of Seeing
Katherine Mitchell Daffodils
Rod Griffiths The Sweetest Smile
Anthony Hentschel The Giant Meets the Christ-child
James Sinkins The Casablanca
Chloe Turner The Bronze Garden
Mary Omnes The Spinsters

If you’d like to read these stories, plus over 70 more, you can catch them in the handsome new Stroud Short Stories anthology, now available to order via Lulu here, edited and published by Nimue Brown. The books are a bargain at £10 (including P&P). That’s just 12p per story – worth every penny. My copy is on my bedside table, ready to dip into for quick late-night reading, though I’m already finding it’s impossible to read just one story at a time without being lured on to read many more.

All in all, it was a memorable and rewarding evening. Although authors who read at any event must “miss a turn” to give others a chance the next time, I’m already looking forward to the autumn event.

Stroud Short Stories takes place every six months. The next event will be held in the autumn with a spooky theme. To be kept informed of event news and for details of how to enter the competitions, follow their website: www.stroudshortstories.blogspot.co.uk.

Filed under: reading, writing Tagged: John Holland, short stories, Stroud Short Stories, The Alchemy of Chocolate

How to Live a Thousand Lives

My column for the April edition of the Hawkesbury Parish News

“The reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.” – George R R Martin

Don’t let your life be full of Groundhog Days (even though groundhogs are pretty cute)

While we may not be able to dictate the course of our own lives, we can control the other 999 simply by selecting the best books.

I tend to choose the kind with happy endings: light-hearted novels featuring characters I’d like to spend time with, in settings that I’d like to visit. But I also like a bit of variety, to avoid Groundhog Day syndrome. After all, what’s the point of living a thousand lives if all of them are pretty much the same?

So I often step outside my comfort zone. This year, between pleasant novels, I’ve enjoyed a history of anaesthesia, the biography of a famous author, an anthology of poems about the sea, and the collected letters of a British comedian. By the time I reached the end of each book, I saw the world in a slightly different way. We are all forever changed, at least a little, by every book we ever read. Even in the age of the internet, the humble book still has almost magical powers.

Surely that’s got to be worth celebrating? If you agree, come and help me do just that, in the company of around 20 authors, poets, and illustrators, on World Book Night, Thursday 23rd April, at the new free Hawkesbury Upton Literature Festival. (See separate page for details) But, in the meantime, I’m off to read a good book…

If you’re after a good book to read, you could do worse than choose one of mine! Quick Change is an upbeat read for spring, packed with 20 very short stories – 22 if you buy the paperback, with its two extra bonus stories! Now available from all the usual online stores, and can also be ordered from your neighbourhood high street bookshop.

Filed under: Hawkesbury Parish News, Quick Change, reading Tagged: Groundhog Day, Hawkesbury Upton Literature Festival, Quick Change, reading, what to read, World Book Night

Why Authors Should Review Books (plus my latest book review for Vine Leaves Literary Journal)

The book I’ve most recently reviewed for Vine Leaves Literary Journal

A post about book reviews, reading, writing and authors

I strongly believe that all authors should review the books they read.

Some authors prefer not to share their reviews in public, not least for fear of revenge against their own books if they give someone else a less than glowing review. But even if they never publish their reviews, they should still write them, because the process of digesting and responding to a book will contribute to their development as a writer.  (More about that idea here.)

I’m more brazen than that. I review books not only on my own book blog (www.debbieyoungsbookblog.com) and on Amazon, and for various publications and organisations, such as Vine Leaves Literary Journal, founded by my multi-talented author friend Jessica Bell.

About Vine Leaves Literary Journal

Vine Leaves specialises in the vignette, so called to indicate a piece literally short enough to be written on a vine leaf. I don’t review the vignettes in the magazine, but books by those who have had vignettes accepted for publication by this prestigious magazine.

The latest Vine Leaves print anthology

These contributors write in many different genres, from poetry and flash fiction to children’s books and adult fiction. Thus reviewing for Vine Leaves also helps me take another piece of my own advice to authors, which is to read outside your comfort zone. Yes, writers should also read widely within the genre in which they’re writing, but if that’s all they read, they’ll quickly become blinkered to the rest of the world of literature – not good news for any writer.

As indicated by the title of the latest book I’ve reviewed for Vine Leaves, their bookshop of contributors’ works is a great place to find interesting and unusual books. Here’s my review of Ben Nardolilli’s Common Symptoms of an Enduring Chill Explained. 

If you’re interested in submitting a vignette to Vine Leaves, or would like to know more about this distinctive literary form and enjoy some first-rate examples, hop over to the Vine Leaves website. Having work published by magazines like this is a great way to gain confidence and exposure as a writer, whichever form you usually write in, so if you’ve not yet tried it, why not give it a go?

Why Authors Welcome Reviews Too

Now available in paperback – my collection of very short stories (aka flash fiction)

Like any author, I always welcome new reviews of my books. Gaining personal, thoughtful feedback from a reader, even if it’s only a few words, encourages any writer to keep writing and to try to please more readers. There’s also a commercial advantage, in that the more reviews an author has online, the more likely it is that other readers will find that author’s books and buy them.

So if you’ve read any books that I’ve written, please consider leaving a brief review on any website of your choice – whether the site from which you made your purchase, on your own book blog, or via Goodreads, the global social network for readers. You’ll make my day. Well, provided you enjoyed my book, anyway!

To keep informed about new book releases, you might like to sign up to my occasional enewsletter, which includes a free short story with every issue. I’ll be sending out the next one in the next few days, so now’s a great time to subscrbe! Just add your email address here. 

 

Filed under: book reviews, writing Tagged: Ben Nardolilli, book reviews, Jessica Bell, reading, reviewing, Vine Leaves Literary Journal

Celebration Time

A post celebrating wedding anniversaries and other special occasions – with tips on how to pick a date for your wedding

The closest I’ll ever get to being a cover girl – my column being billed on the front page of the Tetbury Advertiser

Writing this month’s column for the Tetbury Advertiser in the run-up to my parents’ 62nd wedding anniversary, I’ve been thinking about how we choose and mark the days we wish to celebrate.

How to Choose a Special Day

My parents’ choice of wedding date has always struck me as the romantic ideal: 21st March, the first day of spring, subtler and wiser than Valentine’s Day. If a Valentine’s marriage ends in divorce, that day is forever blighted with a reminder of rejection.

For some events we must take pot-luck. My brother had the good fortune to be born on Midsummer’s Day – surely the perfect birthday, half way between two Christmases – whereas my sister’s Trafalgar Day birthday was fitting for the first-born of my father, then serving in the Royal Navy.

When my grandmother asked my mother what she wanted for her 10th birthday, she said “A baby brother”, and my grandmother duly obliged, albeit on New Year’s Eve – definitely a duff date for a birthday.

Some coincidences are less fortunate. My Scottish husband, born on St David’s Day, landed a lifelong association with the wrong nation’s patron saint.

On our school trip to Windsor Castle, my Greek friend Bill (short for Vasilios) realised he had the same birthday as Prince Charles when the resident band struck up “Happy Birthday to You”. Now, when the National Anthem airs on BBC Radio 4 on the morning of HRH’s birthday, I immediately think of Bill. Sorry, Sir!

For my first marriage, I thought I’d chosen a good date for my wedding: 4th August, the same day as my sister’s. I’d not have done this had I known my new husband would die 10 years later, tinging my sister’s future anniversaries with sadness.

2nd April, 2002 – just a day later than some apparently expected

Marrying for the second time, I picked a date with no prior associations: 2nd April, inadvertently providing the opening joke for the best man’s speech: “When Gordon told me he was getting married on 2nd April, I thought he was a day late”. (He had been a confirmed bachelor until then.)

A Celebration Every Day

But who needs birthdays and anniversaries anyway? The best things in life are worth celebrating all year, any year. We may, for example, look forward to lionising the Lions (publisher of the Tetbury Advertiser)  when they turn 100 years old (the organisation, not the individuals!) in 2017, but we don’t have to save up our gratitude till then.

By the same token, on any day of the year, when I see my parents walking down the street, still holding hands after nearly 62 years of marriage, I throw metaphorical confetti. So today I wish them and everybody like them a very happy unanniversary, and may there be many, many more.

Meet Debbie Young at the new Hawkesbury Upton Literature Festival ( www.hulitfest.com ), which she’ll be launching on World Book Night, Thursday 23rd April, which also happens to be Shakespeare’s birthday, St George’s Day, and the birthday of her chum Phillip. Admission is free – now there’s something else to celebrate!

Filed under: family, father, husband, mother, Tetbury Advertiser Tagged: anniversaries, family, Tetbury, wedding day, weddings