Mum
Little things remind me of her. Random, unexpected things. One thing leads to another and in 10 seconds I’m hurtling down memory lane at breakneck speed.
She was a snob about stationery. A stationery elitist, shall we say. I blame her for not being able to use any old pen to do the job. No, the pen has to be ‘good enough’. Or it had to be to grace her fingers, anyway. My standards are abysmal.
How can I forget her prized COMPO pens, followed closely by the Uni-ball Rollerball. She wouldn’t be caught dead with a ball point. An abomination, in her eyes.
And what if she could see me now? Not doing enough, using the wrong kind of writing equipment, not hanging my husband’s shirts ‘just so’... being a general disappointment to her.
Perhaps it’s a good thing she’s gone.
Wouldn’t mind a bit of the snobbery just now, to be honest. I miss you, Mum.
[31st December 2018]
She was a snob about stationery. A stationery elitist, shall we say. I blame her for not being able to use any old pen to do the job. No, the pen has to be ‘good enough’. Or it had to be to grace her fingers, anyway. My standards are abysmal.
How can I forget her prized COMPO pens, followed closely by the Uni-ball Rollerball. She wouldn’t be caught dead with a ball point. An abomination, in her eyes.
And what if she could see me now? Not doing enough, using the wrong kind of writing equipment, not hanging my husband’s shirts ‘just so’... being a general disappointment to her.
Perhaps it’s a good thing she’s gone.
Wouldn’t mind a bit of the snobbery just now, to be honest. I miss you, Mum.
[31st December 2018]
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