Every year when this passionflower explodes, it reminds me of my Nana. Why? Because it’s called ‘Constance Elliott’. My Nana was Constance. And spookily my other Grandmother was called Constance too. Would have made naming a daughter easy I guess.

Growing up, my Nana was the person who truly saw me for me. She encouraged me to be myself. She told me that I could achieve anything I put my mind to. She taught me to bake. We spent many an hour chatting (and watching the wrestling). Even though she was barely 5 foot tall, she was a massive influence on me.

I’d love the chance to sit and chat with her again. I hope she’d be proud of how I turned out. I am.


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