Traditionally like many women I have avoided conflict. My parents got divorced when I was around 5 and I dimly remember them fighting. They said this was a false memory years later, but I remember tension. Something unresolved hanging in the air. When I was about 7 or 8 we went around Europe camping, and were playing the game of being a family but we weren’t. I remember there being a lot of spiteful remarks going back and forth in the sweltering car. We always had calamities when we travelled anywhere. I have continued that tradition in memory of my father. The photos of that holiday show my Dad standing on one side and Mum as far away from him as possible. In one only half of her is in the frame she’s pulled so far away.
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