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Flora Watkins

April 04, 2024
I have just stomped in from an otherwise lovely day celebrating our eldest child reaching double figures. Children being rather more sophisticated today than they were in the 1980s – when the local Happy Eater represented the acme of fine dining for a 10-year-old – my son had requested lunch at our provincial branch of
March 23, 2024
It has taken two-and-a-half years, but I have finally crossed the Rubicon and feel a stranger in the city that was home for more than two decades. In London for a book launch last month, it became horribly apparent that things had moved on without me. Never a Pret a Manger where I left one.
February 20, 2024
During the mid-2000s, there was a brief publishing trend for feel-good novels with folksy titles: Salmon Fishing in the Yemen and A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian. They’d pop up as recommendations on Richard and Judy’s Book Club and turn the authors into overnight best-sellers.  I’m late to the party, but I do think
January 06, 2024
I was once told that Evelyn Waugh bought Combe Florey, his house in Somerset, because it was sufficiently far from a Catholic church for him to be excused attending the post-Vatican II Mass he so despised. Sadly, I fear this anecdote may be, as we journalists say, too good to check. Whilst the “buggering up
December 02, 2023
Recalibrating Christmas, one year at a time. Midnight Mass at the Brompton Oratory, 2013. As the celestial music and voices swirled to ever-loftier heights to brush the blue and gold of the dome, the baby began to move inside me. I leant against my husband, overcome with a sense of serenity and calm. Later, after
November 03, 2023
Of all the recent commentary on the Middle East, what has been flickering irritably in my peripheral vision are the twinkling, pastel-coloured Marian devotions on the many Instagram accounts I follow of groups set up by and for Catholic mothers. I have stumbled onto these groups in the early hours, seeking help, support and solace
October 02, 2023
Struggling to settle, a skateboarding sister and First Communions. Why are you here? The question I am asked so frequently is posed not with hostility but with curiosity, astonishment, even. No one but no one, I have learned, moves to Norfolk on a romantic whim about wildness and freedom, a reaction to being locked down
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