Fear lurked in the background of my childhood. It was never named when I was a child but, as I grew older, I learnt its name was Communism. Both sides of my family feared Communists and especially Bolsheviks, with good reason. In her book, Upheaval, my grandmother wrote of traumatic
Fire. Australia is burning and the word is on everyone’s lips. Thankfully, at the moment anyway, my family has not been impacted. Although I do know people who live in the fire affected areas, they too are safe. But there has been total devastation, homes destroyed, lives lost, and wildlife
I am lucky that despite war, revolution and immigration, old photographs from my maternal family have survived. I do not know how some of these photos made it through the Russian Revolution. I do not know who grabbed them and threw them in their luggage as they were fleeing Russia.
These were the siblings of my grandmother. In this picture her eldest sister Clair and her brother Dima are shown performing a Russian dance. Cleopatra was called Clair as she detested her given name. She was, according to my grandmother, sensitive, kind, straightforward and truthful. She acted older than her
With the 100th anniversary of the death of the Romanovs approaching next month, my thoughts have been more and more on the Russian side of my family; my mother’s family. My grandmother’s family were Russian aristocrats. As a young lady, she became a Maid of Honour to the Empress Alexandra