So, Mother’s Day was a washout. The singing mailman wasn’t well received. Grandmother said he looked consumptive. Things brightened later on when the family gathered. My brother has one of those Japanese SUVs and his wife managed to scrape it down the wall on the way in. Ha Ha. Mother said nothing good ever came out of the east and she was looking at my brother’s wife when she said it. I said maybe driveways are wider in Cambodia.
Then we had sherry and took tea and smiled when Mother told us about how they only had one clog which is a barefaced lie and my sister and her life partner showed us their tongue studs. Mother winced a bit at the tattoos but she hid it well.
Us siblings have always competed for Mum’s affections, so knowing her love for English first editions, I trumped everyone with a mint copy of Rogers and Mayhew’s “Fundamentals of Thermodynamics”.
It’s got a fifties space rocket on the sleeve and is signed by Mayhew!
(Rogers tragically died in a jet engine at Farnborough. His widow had to bury him in an oil drum)
Then we beetled across town to repeat the whole thing with Mrs Maroon’s Mother.
Mrs Maroon is an only child so her parents hate my guts. When her father looks at me like that, I feel cheap and dirty.
Her mother made old fashioned salad for tea. You know, lettuce, tomato, half a boiled egg and an extra slice of spam for Dad. Her mother was delighted with the Black Magic (presentation box) but then Pop said I, “was driving“, so we left after the arctic roll.
To cap it all, I forgot to leave the Rogers and Mayhew at Mum’s.