Mother’s Day…

Mother’s Day…

This is not my mum…

 

Mother’s Day…

 

It’s Mother’s Day tomorrow and, although these days I have a couple of little monsters that bring ME breakfast in bed – even though, like my own Mother I don’t eat breakfast, I thought I’d take this opportunity to explain a bit about the influence my own Mother has had on my life.

She reads this (sometimes) so I’m probably about to embarrass her… anyway…

Ever since I had my own children I feel like I’ve been transported back in time and have had a great welling of enthusiasm for all those things I remember vividly from when I was a kid. I don’t know what drives this obsession to repeat those years but I’m aware of it in so many ways.

My mum was a great crafting enthusiast. She sewed her own (and our) clothes, she made a latch hook rug, she did copper art, enameling, macrame (have you looked at my gallery of craft books? My mum probably tried everything in all those books). She sewed our curtains from bold geometric fabrics, wallpapered our rooms in fantastic prints – she let me choose TWO of my own wallpapers, which no doubt clashed horribly but were both amazing – one bearing pink and orange psychedelic dots, the other huge trees with birds and a little girl under them in navy, green and red, she made herself fantastic a-line skirts in tartan wools and wore them with knee-high boots. She had fondue dinner parties and served us prawn cocktails with avocado. She was fashionable and composed (all those years as a dancer!) My mum and the 70s are irrevocably linked in my head as the height of coolness.

She also turned me onto these

 

Mother’s Day…

 

Happy Mother’s Day, Mum! You’re still an inspiration now, even though it’s no longer the 1970s and you’re 70 (you don’t look a day over 40!).

This IS my mum…

Mother’s Day…
Mum