Mother's Day

Perran – who is the household punctuation stickler – every home should have one – tells me that it should be Mothers’ Day.  But I think he has misunderstood the true picture.  There is one Mother here and it is me, and today is my day.  Now, having dealt decisively with the apostrophe, I am free to anticipate what the day holds.

Since the offspring hit their teens, organising a family day out has been as easy as getting our goldfish to perform a synchronised swimming routine.  But on Mother’s Day, I become Mumzilla and insist.  I like a cultural day out in a picturesque location that I don’t often visit.  Lunch out is desirable, but I’m prepared to accept a picnic, as long as I don’t have to make it.

As previously, we shall drive to Norwich to include Pascoe.  The BBC predicts sleet and 2˚C for Norwich.  Nigel has therefore found an indoor attraction.  In the year which has included family days out at Eyam Plague Village and Struthoff Concentration Camp, we shall now be visiting Gressenhall Workhouse Museum. 

I confess  I’m a little bit worried about what they’ll serve in the café – I’ve never had gruel before and I’m not sure I want to start now.

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