Mother's Day Restored

Last year, I failed to establish a quorum for Mother’s Day.

My powers of emotional blackmail were clearly beginning to wane.

However, this year, Nigel and the twins turned out for a Mother’s Day outing.  This despite Carenza having run a half marathon (involving 630m of elevation) just the morning before, and Perran having his bags packed for a fortnight’s work trip to Europe, leaving that afternoon.

Pascoe gets out of Mother’s Day on account of living in Edinburgh, although he did put in a lovely phone call.

We went to Kenwood House in Hampstead (English Heritage, free admission) where there is a stunning art collection.  It took my breath away.

Perran and Carenza incidentally recreated moments which recalled their childhood: 

·       They both supplied me with handmade cards (although nowadays elegantly lino-printed).

·       Due to a London Transport event, they arrived and left on by old-fashioned bus with a proper conductor and paper tickets – the kind of vehicle which used to fascinate younger Perran (and still does).

·       On encountering a dressing up opportunity in Kenwood house, they did not hesitate!

However, even I had to acknowledge they are very much adults as nowadays they are the ones who pay for Mother’s Day lunch.  There are some compensations in one’s babies growing up!

Thank you for a great day, Perran, Carenza, Pascoe and Nigel.

How I lost the battle of Mother's Day

Each year I become Mumzilla and insist on a Mother's day outing featuring at least two of my three children. (Use this link for outing ten years ago)

Last year we visited Sissinghurst  and this year we planned to build on the Vita Sackville-West theme.  Carenza and I had watched Orlando - both the current West End play and the Tilda Swinton film adapted from the Virginia Woolf novella in which she made clear her adoration of Vita.  Our Mother’s Day outing would be to Knole, the great Tudor pile which inspired Orlando.

Perran had a plausible alibi for Mother’s Day itself, so we went a week early.  Allowable slippage I thought. 

However, it turned out to be just the beginning of the rot setting in.

One of the purposes of having a Mother’s Day outing is to avoid the church service where all women are given a brightly coloured polyanthus.  (Something really annoys me about it, but I can’t put my finger on what.)   This year I had to contract an actual cold to get out of it.  Made me miserable for a few days, but worth it.

Then Pascoe’s Mother’s Day card arrived, adding a new layer of weirdness.  He had given a photo of me to an AI program and asked it to make me into a Roman lady (as I am a Classics teacher).  Unfortunately, he had selected a picture where I was holding a hedgehog (why?), which then rather dominated – see pic.

Maybe I should give Mother’s Day a rest.  After all, apart from grumbling and sending the occasional WhatsApp, I’m doing very little mothering nowadays – except of course, when I find an orphaned hedgehog.