Tuesday, 22 February 2011
Even her shadow has grey
Morning sky - pearl-grey, an opal horizon against which bare, black branches lattice, lace-like, like fish-net stockings.
I used to think I was robust, a tomboy you can see it in the photograph. I was Robin Hood never Maid Marion, Buffalo Bill not Annie Oakley, the Prince not Cinderella. Now, I can look back and realise I was actually quite fragile, not made of stern-stuff but a broken reed, probably more like Beth than Joe in 'Little Women'. My hero was Katherine Hepburn when in reality it might have been better to have been Virginia Woolf. Unlike Ginny tho' at the last moment something snatched me back from the brink. Funnily enough my Mum said that after I was born she took me to see her Grandmother by that time very old and wizened. When she was told my name she apparently said, "Oh..don't call her that, they'll call her Ginny!".
To my knowledge throughout my sixty-one years not one person has ever called me Ginny!