My Mother’s Voice

Alzheimer’s being the conniving thieving bitch that  it is, my mother wasn’t herself in the final years of her life. The  woman I visited in the Alzheimer’s special care unit was a stranger wearing my mother’s skin but not much else, like the invasion of the body snatchers had taken place, month after month beneath the surface, until one day we looked and the woman we knew was gone, replaced by some alien being. An imposter. Intruder alert. Intruder alert. She died back in 2012. Don’t worry; I won’t be getting maudlin on you.  My real mother–not that stranger in a wheel chair, head nodding on her shoulder–is who I want to think about today.  My real mother —Enid Maude Good nee Hayden, a prim, old-fashioned name, perhaps the only thing about her I didn’t love— was British-born and had a lovely London lilt to her voice her whole life even though she left England in the mid-1950’s. I suppose at thirty, her vocal patterns were already frozen in place.  Sounding like a cross between

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As Seen in Britain


Iconic British Phone Booths in Marylebone
May, 2017

With cellphones prevailing many of these lovely totems of once up a time in Britain, always a popular photo opp, have been revamped as cell phone hot spots and wifi zones. Speaking of which, I shot this pair with my iPhone.

There is even talk of transforming the red phone boxes into mini-offices! Long may they reign!

Posted for British Isles Friday hosted by Joy Weese Moll.

Comments

  1. First double decker buses, now phone booths? Say it isn't so.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I wondered how they were justifying continued red phone booths in London. Cool idea!

    ReplyDelete

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