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Margaret Cullison writes: I suffered from cake envy after attending a friend’s birthday party when I was six or seven years old. She had an April birthday, and her cake that year looked like a lamb with white frosting and coconut curled fur. The cake completely enchanted me. I knew my friend’s mother hadn’t made the cake herself. We always had homemade birthday cakes at home, but that didn’t impress me nearly as much as the magic of Sandy’s lamb cake. more »

As I'd watch each [friend] enter her kitchen, pull a mug from a cabinet, and pour her hot drink, I felt as if I had been reunited with a long-lost sister. But it wasn't DNA that matched us, simply years of traveling together through life's joys and sorrows. A trio of these friends had known me through first marriage and divorce, and all cleaved to me through my second husband's illness and death. We'd bring each other up-to-date on the goings on during the nearly five months since I departed from my longtime home. And even though I chat frequently with these friends, and view Facebook status reports, these early morning kitchen conversations were as precious as an heirloom. more »

The Bodleian exhibition aims to recreate Dickens’s world through these ephemeral items, taking visitors on a journey back to his time with themes such as Victorian London and its amusements, the coming of the railways, domestic entertainment and children’s school life. A number of Dickens's works have been recorded by the Libraries, bringing London to life. The Bodleian exhibition illustrates the relationship between the fictional worlds that Charles Dickens created in his novels and the historical reality in which he lived. He depicted the social realities of his time with what Henry James noted as his ‘solidity of specification,’ an extraordinary clarity and particularity. The actualities of life, especially life in London - the setting for almost all his fiction - were of singular importance to him. When we read Dickens we experience Victorian life. more »

Julia Sneden wrote: The name Grandabbie was my own invention. I don’t remember how I came up with the solution of combining Grandmother and Abbie into what was to become her label for life. From that time on, we called her Grandabbie, and so did all our friends and most of our neighbors. Poor Grandabbie: she used to tell me: “All my life, I looked forward to being called Grandmother. It’s a beautiful word. But then,” she would sigh, “I hadn’t reckoned with you.” more »