Jason Morell remembers Joan Greenwood, his dear Mama, 100 years after she was born
My mother could stop a black cab at a hundred yards. I witnessed her doing it in 1978, across the entire width of Trafalgar Square. Time froze and everything went into slow motion as her diminutive form hurtled, me panting in her wake, past the fountains, up the steps towards the National Gallery, as her one bellowed utterance ‘TAXI’ – part command, part plea – richocheted off pavement, statuary and architectural masonry, hitting its chosen target with military precision. ...
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