First things first, she’s not really, but I’ll get to that… This is a post in two parts although it wasn’t planned that way.
Considering the title of this post (which was hard to type, believe me) I thought it prudent to pre-warn Mumsy less the shock prove to much and send her to the drinks cabinet. Rumour has it that world gin supplies are low so I sent her a draft copy just to be on the safe side. Plus I knew if I posted it without consultation she’d just hang about in the comments making corrections.
Originally I had planned to re-write the draft with corrections but instead I’ve cut down my original bit, and left her reply intact.
The Draft Post
It’s not that she’s scatter-brained, I mean my Mother is one seriously well organised lady, she OWNS lists. And it’s not that she’s stupid, for although Dad and I tend to let her and Louise win at Trivial Pursuit, that’s only so we can have a quiet life and if I’m honest, they do legitimately beat us on the odd occasion. And of course she isn’t really an idiot.
No, it’s more that, occasionally, she just doesn’t really seem to concentrate and there are two stories which nicely demonstrate this.
The location is our local high street and my Mum and my Aunt Anne, who is driving, have just parked in a side street to let my Mum ‘nip to the cashline’.
My Aunt Anne patiently sits in the car and waits.
My Mother goes to the cashline, extracts her money and walks back to the car.
She gets in.
The rather bemused man sitting in the driver’s seat looks at my Mother and says “hello”.
Meanwhile my Aunt Anne, who has just watched my Mother walk up and get into the wrong car, is laughing her head off.
Now, admittedly I have been told that both cars were very very VERY similar. But part of me thinks that they both just happened to be blue. Ish. (re-read this last bit, it’ll be useful later)
The location of this story is, again, the local high street and specifically the (now defunct) John Menzies. My Mother is in buying a copy of the Radio Times, when she spots my Uncle Bill standing in the other aisle, with his back to her, perusing the photography magazines.
My Mother wanders up behind him, leans in and huskily breathes: “hello sexy”.
To which the rather bemused man turns to my Mother and says “ummm hi…”
My Mother, to her great credit, realises her mistake, blushes appropriately, apologises and makes a hasty retreat. (note: or so I thought!)
And it’s only when I write out these stories that I realise that the common theme isn’t my Mother’s occasional errs, but the continued presence of bemused men. Which kind of explains that look my Dad has on his face most of the time…
OK, so here is what I got back from Mum. I’ve added in a few details (the bits in brackets) so it makes a little more sense to others.
Just a tiny point or two but you did ask me to check it
Re: Story 1
Yes the cars were very very similar, one was red and one was silver (G: !!!!!!), in my defense the door handles looked identical and I was extremely excited and overwhelmed at the time because the cash line had actually let me take some money out.
Re: Story 2
Not only did I whisper sexily in his ear I also tickled the inside of his thigh, don’t ask it’s just a thing between friends, Pascal liked it too but we are going waaay off course here – you have to do it upside down for him though cause he lives in Department soixante neuf (G: Pascal is French)
I said ‘Oh I am so sorry I thought you were someone else’ to which he replied ‘I’m sorry too, who’s the lucky man?’ I found out later he was our ex MP’s son and spookily he drove the same make of car as Bill – he still says hello to me which is – nice?
Did I ever tell you about the time I was down town with Anne – I think this is the root of the problem, I’ll have to find somebody sensible to go with – she was in a shop and I stood outside to wait for her with Rowan (Anne’s dog) at the edge of the pavement. A wee old buddy came along and said ‘Wait and I’ll see you over dear – there’s nothing coming’ She thought it was a guide dog….. You should have seen Anne’s face when she came out of Boots and I was across the road not wanting to move till the wee lady was out of sight. I often wonder how I get into these situations but it does give us a laugh at the henny! (G: my mother and her ‘hens’ meet regularly, hence world shortage of gin…)
Now that you are older I might tell you some of the other tales…….(G: Nooooooo)
So there you have it.
I’m now officially lost for words.
Well, maybe I can manage a few more. Love you Mum, you mad mental woman you!!