I arrive at my mother’s in the afternoon and find her sitting quietly. The television is off and there are a row of mugs along the windowsill. I take a sniff at one and it’s not tea. “I don’t know why I’m sitting here thinking about Auntie Annie,” she says, “but I’m just thinking it all over about when I was young. I’m really deep into it.” She’s sitting with one of those “Your Memories” albums, which she had been given several years ago.

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2007/sep/08/familyandrelationships.family10