On Mothers Day, some random thoughts about my mother.
My life is completely different from hers. By my age, my mother was married with three children. Her glory days as Miss Trimcraft, Miss Siemens Plessey and eventually Miss South Tyneside were far behind her.
Things I've inherited from my mother: a strong work ethic, an inate sense of fairness and justice, "the Sanddancer bum", and a love of Bruce Springsteen.
Some things I wish I'd inherited: her looks, her practical nature, her ability with mental arithmetic, her cooking skills.
My mother mispronounces the name "Malcolm" and the word "balcony", pronouncing them "Mollcom" and "Bolcony" respectively. Asked why she does this, she claimed that pronouncing them with an "A" sounds common.
She has an inexplicable mental block about the black suits in playing cards and has always referred to them as "shovels" and "cauliflowers".
Christmas is always tinged with subterfuge, as she disguises presents in different sized boxes or tells people they are getting something completely different, to add an element of surprise to the proceedings.