She's buried in a local churchyard. Her old house is identified by the blue plaque which you can see from the street, and I pass it often on my walks along the River Thames. According to the local museum she shopped regularly in Wallingford town centre, and she was the President of the local theatre group at one point.
I often wonder about her, when I pass her house or I'm having a particularly speculative moment in my favourite chair at Costa overlooking the marketplace. I wonder what Wallingford was like in the 1930's, and if she ever took any inspiration from the river, or the bridge, or the market centre. I wonder if the same things that inspire my writing ever gave her a hint of promise when she was feeling a touch of writers block. It's over 35 years since her death and still her presence is felt here. She's an inspiration.
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