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Dear Diary, Tonight the house felt like a whirlwind. My son Tom and his wife Molly burst into our flat

Eleanor Whitaker, what makes you think Im obliged to keep your son fed? Hes my husband, a bloke, and

I got a suitcase full of my wifes things from her a tidy little bundle shed packed for the move.

After my husbands funeral, my son drove me out to a track in the woods and said, This is where you belong.

Hey love, Ive got to tell you about this wild weekend I had at the little seaside spa in Brighton.

He began to forget the simplest things. At first he couldnt recall whether his son liked strawberry or

22April Ive just unpacked the suitcase my wife sent overher usual habit of sending everything at once.

Tom, enough with the melodrama, let’s sit down and sort this out, Eleanor says, trying to keep

I had nowhere to go. Literally nowhere. I could spend a night or two on the platform at the station

After my husbands funeral, my son drove me out onto a narrow woodland lane and said, Here is where you belong.