We all have a Mother. That is one of the three certainties in our lives as humans, the other two are of course Birth and Death. My mother is a mother of 5 and at one point she had four under the age of 5! Very devoted or seriously insane, I am not sure which. She is a perfect mother. Kind, sunny, happy, loving, nurturing and I am so very lucky to have her. We fondly refer to her as Hyacinth. She must also be Obeyed.
Hyacinth visited yesterday. She arrived carrying four loads of my washing, perfectly ironed and smelling of spring. I had failed (as usual) on the washing front and she scooped the lot out of the bath the last time she visited. A few minutes later two Sky TV engineers arrived to install my new TV and The Grumpy One aka my pa, popped up from behind the sofa, clutching a curtain rail, muttering something about putting it up in The Borg's room. It was bedlam and there was nowhere to hide. The Little House By The Sea is just that and for once I had to face the chaos.
'Darling, would you like a cup of tea, bacon sandwich, cold drink, Indian head massage' said Hyacinth. She was not addressing me, this was directed at the bemused and nervous Sky engineers. They backed hastily into the glory hole (the cupboard under the stairs) and busied themselves with important cables. She disappeared upstairs and I prayed she wouldn't open my bedroom door. So much for prayer. Two minutes later she shouted, 'Sweetheart, I think your bed needs changing, I'm just going to sort it out'. I grimaced and hoped I hadn't left anything incriminating between the sheets. No, not a man, they are fairly scarce around these parts. Luckily all she managed to find were some mint imperials, a Kindle and the dessicated remains of a piece of toast.
Meanwhile The Grumpy One was drilling through a steel joist in The Borg's room. The Borg was trying to hide behind his wardrobe with his ipad but was soon spotted and put to work. The Sky engineers were wisely staying in the glory hole and I was making hot beverages in the kitchen and eyeing my car keys longingly. My beloved parents behave like a pair of hyperactive toddlers at a chocolate factory. I wouldn't mind but Hyacinth is 68 and The Grumpy one is 71! I phoned my friend Kim in a state of panic. 'Please help me' I whispered down the phone. She was no help. 'Get a hold of yourself and take some deep breaths, if that doesn't work you could always go and hide in the garden'.
The Saga invaders finally left, clutching another load of washing. As the dust settled (actually there wasn't any left) I asked The Borg if he wanted a drink. 'Go away and leave me alone, people have been touching my stuff' he replied. I know how you feel son..... Still, as I climbed gratefully into bed last night and sank into my fresh sheets that smelled like my mums soap powder, I sighed happily. I am so bloody lucky to have her......
Hyacinth visited yesterday. She arrived carrying four loads of my washing, perfectly ironed and smelling of spring. I had failed (as usual) on the washing front and she scooped the lot out of the bath the last time she visited. A few minutes later two Sky TV engineers arrived to install my new TV and The Grumpy One aka my pa, popped up from behind the sofa, clutching a curtain rail, muttering something about putting it up in The Borg's room. It was bedlam and there was nowhere to hide. The Little House By The Sea is just that and for once I had to face the chaos.
'Darling, would you like a cup of tea, bacon sandwich, cold drink, Indian head massage' said Hyacinth. She was not addressing me, this was directed at the bemused and nervous Sky engineers. They backed hastily into the glory hole (the cupboard under the stairs) and busied themselves with important cables. She disappeared upstairs and I prayed she wouldn't open my bedroom door. So much for prayer. Two minutes later she shouted, 'Sweetheart, I think your bed needs changing, I'm just going to sort it out'. I grimaced and hoped I hadn't left anything incriminating between the sheets. No, not a man, they are fairly scarce around these parts. Luckily all she managed to find were some mint imperials, a Kindle and the dessicated remains of a piece of toast.
Meanwhile The Grumpy One was drilling through a steel joist in The Borg's room. The Borg was trying to hide behind his wardrobe with his ipad but was soon spotted and put to work. The Sky engineers were wisely staying in the glory hole and I was making hot beverages in the kitchen and eyeing my car keys longingly. My beloved parents behave like a pair of hyperactive toddlers at a chocolate factory. I wouldn't mind but Hyacinth is 68 and The Grumpy one is 71! I phoned my friend Kim in a state of panic. 'Please help me' I whispered down the phone. She was no help. 'Get a hold of yourself and take some deep breaths, if that doesn't work you could always go and hide in the garden'.
The Saga invaders finally left, clutching another load of washing. As the dust settled (actually there wasn't any left) I asked The Borg if he wanted a drink. 'Go away and leave me alone, people have been touching my stuff' he replied. I know how you feel son..... Still, as I climbed gratefully into bed last night and sank into my fresh sheets that smelled like my mums soap powder, I sighed happily. I am so bloody lucky to have her......
We who know darling Hyacinth all adore her. She is and always has been my dearest friend, I love your pa with a passion reserved for best friends husbands and you my darling girl like a longed for surrogate daughter, and bless my darling Joshy. Please keep blogging, it keeps you all close to me. jo xx
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