Eating Crow

There’s a new post on Daughter on Duty.

My mother is crazy. I’m sure that has been well-established in this space. She gets a story fixed in her holey brain and, as a friend put it, ‘hangs on to it like a junk-yard dog with a bone’ however often we put her to rights. Rebecca and I are never quite sure where her convictions come from: dreams, nothing to do but sit and think about what she wishes would be so in a perfect world, a life-long desire to write fiction, mishearing, misremembering; or a gallimaufry. And how great a word is that!

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