Falling into place
On learning to be a limestone witch
The North has welcomed me back like a prodigal daughter, with open arms and a pile of pies. Funny what you miss. Pies of every description, for sure. The caustic humour, the telling it like it is, the not beating about the bush. When my mother moved us south when I was ten, I told her that I ‘didn’t understand these people’. They never say what they mea…