Always Remembered

Note: Thank you to my cousin Hilary for the photo of her mum. Now I just need a photo of my mum in uniform
I come from a family of great story tellers. I grew up hearing stories about my Nana's childhood, her talent at the piano, her prowess on the tennis court and how she was courted by one of her older brothers' best friends, Frank Nash. He later served in Africa, where he contracted malaria, a disease that eventually led to his death soon after the war.

These stories were usually told at her kitchen table over breakfast. My sister and I visited Nana most Saturday and Sunday mornings when we were growing up. I continued the custom, long after my sister stopped, just for the stories. Nana was evacuated from London with her two daughters to the village of Clophill and Silsow. She was a civilian telephone operator at an unnamed military base, a job that sounded much more mysterious than it probably was.

At the dinner table, at family gatherings, I heard stories from my mother a…

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