Ode to the smile

Imagine if you were a baby that was born in the past year and a half. Certainly, here in Spain all you would have seen on the street in your short life would have been masked people on the street. Anyone who leaned over your stroller with sparkling eyes, cooing noises and exaggerated baby talk,…

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Having a heart in two countries

The other day my son sent me a WhatsApp video from Norway. He was out running by the Oslo fjord and had stopped on a bridge to film the view. Far below, I could see the water that I had sailed on so many times with my late father, the Norwegian coastline, the granite cliffs…

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May is for Azar

Have you ever been struck by an odour which instantly took you back to a place that you had completely forgotten about? This happens to me quite frequently. I can turn a corner and suddenly I am there as a toddler in the land of the fjords, or as a 23-year-old living in Paris. The…

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Do you choose April?

“I choose April” my father would always announce in his booming baritone around this time of the year. He was quoting the first part of a Norwegian poem from the 1870s, though he never continued, so I doubt that he ever knew the rest of it. Exactly 26 years ago I was very pregnant. In…

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