by Liz Champion | Mar 17, 2021 | Memoir
I stare at the blank page on my laptop and tap the keyboard gently with my fingers, waiting for the words to flow. Nothing happens. I type random letters, hoping if not for a flow, then at least a trickle. Fldkfjldsjflkdsjf Fjdlsfjds Still nothing. I reach for the cup...
by Liz Champion | Feb 16, 2021 | Memoir
The story below is a little different to my usual Slice of Life stories. It’s longer — more a full cake than a slice. It’s a 20-minute read. I hope you enjoy it. Days Like These Wednesday 30 December 2020 ‘It’s sold out,’ Chris says when I walk into the kitchen early...
by Liz Champion | Jan 11, 2021 | Memoir
At 7.55pm on Monday night, I sit down in front of the TV waiting for the prime minister’s latest briefing. I stare at the screen — that all too familiar feeling of dread stirring in my stomach. It’s a BBC News special anchored by Huw Edwards. ‘We’re expecting an...
by Liz Champion | Nov 7, 2020 | Memoir
‘Bakewell tarts,’ Dad says when I answer the phone. ‘What about them?’ ‘I’ve made some.’ ‘For us?’ ‘Yes. Can you pick them up? Before I eat them all.’ I promise I’ll be straight round and hang up. ‘Chris,’ I shout downstairs to where my husband is hard at work. ‘Stop...
by Liz Champion | Oct 31, 2020 | Memoir
My mum and sister are sitting at the kitchen table, knives in hand, frantically carving when I arrive. ‘What’s happening?’ I ask. ‘I’m working from home,’ my sister, Sarah, says. ‘Pumpkins,’ Mum says, not looking up. I stand in the doorway, staring at the mess. There...
by Liz Champion | Oct 24, 2020 | Memoir
It’s Monday evening, almost seven o’clock, when I go upstairs to play my saxophone. On the TV downstairs, the prime minister is briefing the nation about rising coronavirus cases, local lockdowns, and the three-tier system. I step into my book room and close the door...
