Rosie Swale-Pope - Early Life

Early Life

Rosie Swale-Pope was born as Rosie Griffin in Davos, Switzerland. Her Swiss mother was suffering from tuberculosis, and her Irish father Ronnie Griffin was serving in the British Army, so she was brought up by the wife of the local postman. She was two when her mother died, and she went to live with her paternal grandmother, called Carlie, who was bedridden with osteoarthritis, in Askeaton in County Limerick, Ireland.

When she was five, her father remarried and moved to Ireland, with his French wife Marriane. They had four children, Maude, Greald, Nicholas and Ronnie. Although they were only in the next cottage, Rosie stayed with her grandmother and looked after four orphaned donkeys, seven goats, and a pet cow called Cleopatra. Rosie learnt to ride, often going out on her black horse Columbine all day exploring the countryside.

Her grandmother was very religious and worried that the local school would be a bad influence, so Rosie was schooled at home. Although her coursework mostly consisted of simply writing about what she had done each day, it proved to be useful training for her later writing about her travels and adventures.

Her father died in 1957, and when she was thirteen, Rosie was sent to a strict boarding school for girls in Cork.

At 18 her first job was as a reporter for a regional newspaper, the Surrey Advertiser. It didn't last long however, and she hitch-hiked to Delhi, Nepal and Russia, with almost no money or luggage.

Rosie was married to Colin Swale in her early twenties. They originally lived in a small flat in London, but when their daughter Eve was born, they bought a catamaran (named the Anneliese in memory of Rosie's sister she only knew from a photo) and sailed to Italy, where Rosie's son James was born on board the boat.

Read more about this topic:  Rosie Swale-Pope

Famous quotes containing the words early and/or life:

    For the writer, there is nothing quite like having someone say that he or she understands, that you have reached them and affected them with what you have written. It is the feeling early humans must have experienced when the firelight first overcame the darkness of the cave. It is the communal cooking pot, the Street, all over again. It is our need to know we are not alone.
    Virginia Hamilton (b. 1936)

    Life is the desert, life the solitude,
    Death joins us to the great majority.
    Edward Young (1683–1765)