Presently writing a ‘factional’ novel of my mother’s life, entitled ‘Waiting for the sea to boil’. My mother, born in 1922, lived a fragmented life, like so many who were raised at that time. It takes the reader through the story of her life in North London, during the twenties and thirties, including the tragic death of her mother; the depression and final salvation of her father and the traumatic years when she lived with an aunt who hated her. Then, when things looked brighter in her late teens, along came the war and decimated her plans for the career she was training for, thrusting her, like so many others, into the uncertainties and terror of war.
It charts the fortuitous meeting with the man she eventually married and the joys, as well as the struggles they faced, especially in conceiving a much-wanted child – me, which is where the story ends. To understand the actual event chosen as the title you will have to read the book, but it is also an analogy of her life- much of it waiting for the seeming impossible.