It was a world that I wanted to record because it was such a miracle visitation to me.

For the first time I was learning how much easier it was to leave than to stay behind and love.

But our waking life, and our growing years, were for the most part spent in the kitchen, and until we married, or ran away, it was the common room we shared.

I was set down from the carrier's cart at the age of three; and there with a sense of bewilderment and terror my life in the village began.

What she did was to open our eyes to details of country life such as teaching us names of wild flowers and getting us to draw and paint and learn poetry.

We were living in the Slad Road when my father left us. I was about three.

Bees blew like cake-crumbs through the golden air, white butterflies like sugared wafers, and when it wasn't raining a diamond dust took over which veiled and yet magnified all things