Things I didn’t know about my mother. (Part 6).

24 07 2012

The truth is I don’t see my mother often enough, but when I do visit I tend to stay over. Its what I refer to as quality time. Unhurried conversation, a bit of gardening, the car emptied of last weeks shopping,food thrown away that is long past its sell by date. Towards the end of the evening mother will dose, wake up with a start, then pronounce that she is off to bed, her departure allowing me time to explore the unknown territory of late night television. ‘This week’ anybody? Within an hour (mostly due to the heat) I start to feel drowsy myself and decide to follow in my mothers footsteps. The problem is that she has a very noisy house – my attempts not to wake her thwarted by creaking stairs, a whining bannister, and the innocent looking teddy bear slouched on the top landing. Its extremely sensitive, the merest touch prompting it to perform a distorted rendition of ‘Tomorrow’ from the musical ‘Annie’. The problem is I’ve yet to find a way to switch it off. I’ve tried strangulation,choking,shoving it up my shirt, but all to no avail. Somehow it always manages to complete five choruses before gurgling to a halt, by which time a door has groaned open, and my mother has emerged from it, all fluffy slippers and a Marks and Spencer dressing gown. Puffy eyes or not, she still manages to convey scorn in a Hitchcock leading lady kind of way, the power of a prolonged silence exercised to its absolute best effect before she retreats, the ultimate revenge inflicted upon me seconds after she has closed the bedroom door. ‘Talk Back’ radio at full blast.



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