Michael Laskey, 7 November 1991
Just her superstition – never to watch a guest pass out of sight. There we’d be all waving together till the last moment when she’d turn
and dash indoors. Not that it dawned on us for years – she was just our mother – but rumbling her we were unanimous: nonsense like that had to stop.
So we’d encourage her, slip our arms around her shoulders and then hold...