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Finding my Salvation after 50


Finding my Salvation after 50

Knowing yourself is a task for which you need both a tissue and a toolbox, writes ANGELA TUCK, but it's only after fifty that you recognise the thread that runs through everything.

WE'RE all in the Ford Cortina station wagon (three girls in the backseat and two boys and brass instruments in the far back) on our way to The Army. Mom’s hat is three fingers short of the car roof. Dad is humming “Abide with Me" (Henry Francis Lyte, 1847). My brother’s continual sniffing compels me to ask, “Mom, can I have a tissue?"

“What have I told you?"

“Every lady carries a handbag. Inside it is, one, a tissue and two, a brush or comb.” At my failure to present said bag not to mention a tissue, she reluctantly digs one out of her bra and passes it back...

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