In a sad dose of symmetry,

I'm to become a godmother for the first time in the same week that I lost my own perfect godmum. My Dogmum. She of the extraordinarily varied Christmas tapes - Ernie the Fastest Milkman in the West next to Bach into the Owl and the Pussy Cat - sent to a little goddaughter in a desert. The one who looked after my Mum when her father died and got her drunk and danced with her in the sitting room in the early hours. The one with the best laugh and the naughtiest wink. The one who let 3 students live in her summer house for days and never once suggested it might be a good idea to tidy up or draw the curtains. The one who understood, unquestioningly, why a little girl must have the biggest, cuddliest collection of stuffed pigs and who continued to contribute to it well into my 20s. I will miss you and try to be an eighth as good at godmothering as you. XXX