Louise Foster


I often felt right out there dangling on the end of a twig when the conversation turned and friends started to discuss books. Having read very little of anything, I was afraid to open my mouth. It took years to discover why my sight a family joke? Someone would yell from the backseat of the family car, What’s that sign say? My answer, Huh, how am I supposed to read that, you drove too fast. I found it increasingly difficult to read words on the tellie. It turned out that I hadn’t taken to reading because I had Astigmatism, which wasn’t picked up until my thirties. Plus being partially dyslexic had me shy away from the written word. On my dreary train travels to and from work, DH, an avid reader, suggested I read. With my brand new glasses none of the letters…

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