Sunday, 22 March 2009

Sunday 22.3.09


Mothers' Day. I find it difficult to decide my views on this little what?...... festival? feast day? day of holy obligation? As a little girl, I made a Mothers' Day card at school. When I proudly presented it, my Mum told me that Mothers' Day was not about mothers, but about Christians being obliged to visit the church where they had been christened, and was called Mothering Sunday. She put the card to one side and seemed to forget about it, it faded and gathered dust until I threw it away myself. I was so hurt that I have never given her a Mothers Day card since. There was a stand off in about 1986 when she found I had given a card to Nick's Mum, my Mum then said she did want a card of her own. Well, she didn't say, she shouted for quite a long time in quite a confusing way so that I was even more determined to reject all cards with flowers and kittens and naff humour, and words of thanks. Until I got my first one as a mum. Every year I tell my family not to worry about Mothers' Day and every year they give me cards and flowers and sometimes chocolates or a hand made something because they know it matters to me very much indeed. This year's cards are on the mantle in our bedroom, along with a photo that H took which came in a nice frame, gift wrapped. I've eaten the walnut whips. The pink carnations are in the kitchen window. I love being a mum.

I woke up in positive mood today. Nick and I went to Halfords to replace the front numberplate that had been torn off the car on StPatricks night. I paid an extra £5 to have it fitted by a lovely man who evidently enjoyed the manual task that Nick would have hated. We went to the Memorial Park that was filled with up-beat people as it was sunny, and Sunday, a winning combination. Its funny how I can't remember what we talked about, but remember that we were happy.

I've been watching the Richard Herring DVD, Manage a Un. As well as finding it very funny, I'm full of admiration of the out take where he offends the partner of a heckler to the extent that they walk out. The script changes radically, and Herring ad-libs to a point where he picks it up again, keeping the audience with him. This is better than the standard script, though I can see why he didn't put it in the main DVD. The completest in me yearns to get the DVD's that I don't have. Two to go, I believe. It occurred to me that as I was making family roast dinner and watching the Old Men on Fire routine, Richard was about to go on stage in Manchester (I know this because of Twitter). We are the same age, of similar background and education, and yet so unbelievably different. Uniqueness is a wonderful thing. When I first watched Headmasters' Son I felt jealous of the expertise, status and freedom of a 41 year old stranger and thought maybe I had made a critical error with my life. Today, enjoying the more commonplace competence of cooking a good dinner, and the company of my family, I felt that I had the better deal. Now that's the mawkish sentimentality of Mothers' Day for you.

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