Ahhhh Mums.
Dear Mum.

When I think of you I always think of hugs. The smell of your face powder (Rimmel) and your perfume (Azuree by Estee Lauder, it lingers long after any other perfume I’ve smelled and no one wears it like you do) and it makes me tear up slightly because at the grand old age of 29 I have moved away from just round the corner so those lovely Mum hugs are fewer and all the more precious.

You always know. I can no longer count on fingers and stubby toes (thanks Dad) how many times on opening the front door you manage to just know there is something wrong before folding me into one of those hugs (see above).

The sound I associate with you is humming as you potter about in the kitchen. You were the good cop and the bad cop when we were growing up and I can remember the ‘get out of my sight’s’ the ‘you wait until your father get’s home’s’ and ‘Go to your room’s’.

You have to go through the name of every person living in the house (even the cat) before you get to my name and I don’t want anyone else but you when I am ill.

You can drink your own body weight in gin and tonic and still manage to put your lipstick on straight.

I love you Mum.

GOTW.

Ps ‘scuse line breaks.
(GirlOfTheWorld, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 17:06, 1 reply)

Your mum
Just might be my Aunty Susan. Which means you're my fit cousin. Fancy hooking up at uncle Teds funeral on Tuesday? x
(The Boy Monders I have ginger bits in my beard., Thu 11 Feb 2010, 17:09, closed)