Even the simplest wicker basket can become priceless when it is loved and cared for through the generations of a family.
It has not been an easy name, yet it has brought me many a laugh.
It has not been an easy cross to bear. It has caused considerable confusion. My husband constantly complained about the awkwardness of being married to a woman whom he called Sister.
Even my aunt Joan, hopelessly sentimental about every member of our family, admitted that I was hideous.
The last occasions when the timetable of our lives would be interrupted for many years to come.
