Sunday Musings For Mother’s Day

Today is Mothering Sunday in the UK, and that was combined with the clocks going forward one hour. As often happens, this made me stay in bed one hour longer than usual, and I will be feeling like I am catching up for the rest of today.


I am sending greetings and best wishes to every mother who reads this blog. We only have to focus on recent awful events in the world to see just how determined mothers are, and that there is nothing they wouldn’t do to protect and nurture their chiildren. Not everyone had/has a good mother, but their bad luck was a rarity.


My own mother died in 2012. She died in pain and distress, in a side room of a hospital ward. I had sat next to her bed for some hours that night, before returning home exhausted. In the early hours, I was telephoned by a nurse to tell me she had died around 1:30 am. I was relieved that her suffering was over, and upset that I hadn’t chosen to stay by her side until her last moments. I can never take that back, and make a different choice.


This photograph of my mum was taken in 1939. She was 15 years old, and already working full-time since she left school at 14. She smiles at the camera, her teenage life spread out before her, the hopes and dreams we all recognise are present in her eyes. Three months later Britain was at war, and my mum’s life changed forever.


She will never be forgotten. When I am gone, my younger family members will remember their aunt, and their children will be told tales of her. One child is even named after her, to continue my mum’s legacy.


As for me, not a day goes by without remembering something good about my wonderful mum. That’s as it should be.


I hope you all have a wonderful Sunday.


An Alphabet Of Things I Like: M


Whether you call them Mother, Mum, Mom, Mummy, Momma, Mutti, Mama, or any other version of those, mothers are just the best. From the moment we appear, they love us. We can do no wrong, and they will fight and die for us, if necessary. They will deprive themselves of food or anything else so that we can be safe and fed, and they will defend us for the rest of our lives, whatever we do.

Nothing quite compares to being loved by a mother. No matter how hard your father might try, it’s just not quite the same. In every country in the world, whatever the colour of skin or religion, mothers stick by their children to the end. And even when we grow old, we are still their children. Nothing changes.

Thinking Aloud On a Sunday


I was away visiting friends last weekend, so wasn’t really thinking about much else. And I was nowhere near a computer, so there was no regular Sunday post.

But this morning, I woke up thinking about Mothers. Given that today is Mother’s Day in Britain, that is not really surprising.

My own Mum died in 2012, at the age of 87. She always loved Mother’s Day, expecting my attendance for a meal, and looking forward to the large card she received without fail. I always brought a gift too, but she was never bothered about that, much preferring to read the words in the card, and whatever short note I had added. When I was a child, one of my relatives would buy me a card and gift to give her, or I would make something at school. She kept all of those, and every card I ever gave her, throughout the next sixty years.

I have no doubt that I often took her for granted, especially during my teens. My clothes were washed and ironed, a meal always on the table, and support for everything from my stressful exams, to my first job, was given without reservation. During problems in adult life, she was always on my side. But if she thought I had made the wrong choice about something, she was quick to caution me about my decision. Nothing was too much trouble for her, as far as her child was concerned. She was a good mother, an excellent mother. One of the great mothers.

But with few exceptions, aren’t they all?

Whether sheltering in a refugee tent in Syria, dealing with a drug-addicted child in Edinburgh, or living with a severely-disabled child in India, mothers all around the world do nothing but show devotion to their children. The same cannot always be said of fathers, unfortunately, though some are undoubtedly excellent.

In my experience, becoming a mother brings on a fundamental change in a woman. As the baby is handed to them, something happens inside, that unconditional love that endures. Whether that child eventually turns out to be a University Professor, a world-famous doctor, a coal-miner, or nurse, the love of a mother never dwindles, and remains the same as the child becomes an adult. Even the mothers of serial killers and fraudsters still love their children. They will forgive us almost anything, driven by that magical connection of carrying us inside their bodies.

So today I send a salute to all mothers, wherever you are.
We couldn’t have done it without you.

Mothering Sunday

Today is Mother’s Day in the UK. (Maybe everywhere, I’m not sure.)
This is a little poignant for me, as it is also almost three years to the day that my own Mum died.
But it has been a nice day for Julie so far. Although she hasn’t been able to see any of her children, for various reasons, she has received cards, and spoken to them on the telephone. Yesterday, we travelled down to Hertfordshire, so she could take a card and flowers to her own Mum, and spend the afternoon and evening with her.

It hasn’t all gone smoothly though. Returning late last night, we discovered that our heating had decided to stop working, and we have no idea why. There is oil in the tank, it was recently serviced, and appears to be intact in every way, yet it refuses to fire up. Of course, being a Sunday, we cannot get anyone out to look at it. Fortunately, we have the working log burner, and that is now roaring away, providing heat in the living room at least. There is also a back-up electric heater for the hot water, so we are not that badly off. The weather isn’t playing ball either. After the recent brief spell of sunshine and decent temperatures, today is gloomy and chilly, with a chance of rain.

I will try to make Julie’s Mother’s Day special. I have already prepared her a nice breakfast, and later on, there will be a traditional dinner of roast pork. We will be able to enjoy the rest of the day in front of the fire, and have a relaxing evening. I will remember days gone by with my own Mum, who always loved this day so much; anticipating her annual card, and enjoying a visit from her son.

So, here’s to all the Mothers out there. The often unsung heroes of our lives. Their selfless devotion, the undemanding love for their children, and the lifetime of care and attention that they lavish on us. Wherever you are, and whatever language you speak. have a wonderful day.