In the summer of 1953 I had several days of business in Bognor Regis, England, and spent my few nights there as guest of a good friend of my mother’s, whom I had not previously met. Her name was Blanche Bridges, and she was a wealthy widow, living in a pleasant, and beautifully appointed house with her son Bobby, who was then about twenty.
During the visit, I was treated to dinner alternately at Blanche Bridges’ house, or at her sister’s, a Mrs Williamson, where Blanche and I dined on the second night — Bobby Bridges being away from home at that time. Mrs Williamson was also a widow, and lived with her only daughter, Sally, who was a professional musician. Thus we were four at dinner. Continue reading “Mrs Williamson’s Story”