Margaret Hill 1924-2012

If anyone is pulling the strings of the Higgs-Boson, it’s my mother. She had been trying to figure out the universe, or at least where the perimeter fence might be, since she was a child, and she died the week the H-B put in an appearance. No coincidence. It couldn’t have been easy, speculating on space and time and what might be ‘out there’ when your education and social position told you to keep your eyes lowered and get good at knitting. Mum was born into an Irish catholic family that had come over to Yorkshire to escape the potato famine, and set its roots in a Bradford pub called the Harp of … Continue reading Margaret Hill 1924-2012

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Donald Sunderland Hill: a very fitting send-off

October 26th was a remarkable day. It was the day we hand-delivered our dad to life’s engine of renewal on his first step back to the stuff of stars. We held our ceremony at the residential home where he had lived the last year with Mum. She grasping less and less of the substance of life, and he falling foul of a need to take care of her at the expense of his own health, despite having no need to do so. The people we invited: a small group of family who had laughed with him through most of our lives; and friends who … Continue reading Donald Sunderland Hill: a very fitting send-off

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