my mum is a ginger Catholic orphan
Well not an orphan really but I thought it sounded better. She was however raised in many children's homes run by nuns. She's told me stories about the hellish food they made her eat, about how she was regularly beaten and the saddest story ever was when she got her first ever Christmas present.

I think she said she was about 7 and her uncle came to see her on Christmas day and brought her a doll that was nearly as big as her and if you held its hand and pulled it kind of walked with you. She cried with joy when she got and she swore to her uncle that she would love it and cherish it for her whole life as she'd never even received as much as a card from anyone in her life. Anyway after he had left they were all called to a church service and she was told to leave the doll on her bed. When she returned a few hours later someone had ripped every arm, every leg and it's head off and had got some scissors and had cut all it's clothes up and cut it's hair off. I think she still finds it quite hard to talk about.

Anyway she grew up into one of the most level headed people I have ever met and devoted her life to caring for the disabled, although god forbid should she ever hear anyone swear, she hates it and says "never ever call anyone a b (bastard) unless they truly deserve it" (in her eyes that would be someone like Ian Huntley). She has given myself and my two older sisters a balanced upbringing by saying she can never stop us from doing things so she would teach us how to do things safely like how to drink and not end up paralytic.

She has her little paranoias such as cutting my kids (5 and 9) grapes up so they don't choke and she always likes to know where were going if we're going to be more than a few hours (we only live round the corner) and every single weekend she rings us (me and my sisters) up just to tell us that if we're going out to put our hands over our drinks and ring our local taxi firm at hometime. She won't even allow us to go to any hospital appointments on our own and demands that she gets to support us they she never was.

I love her to bits and I would never ever change anything about her because one day I might need her to come to the hospital with me or to remind me to put my hand over my drink and she won't be there. So for now I shall indulge her and enjoy every minute of it.
( Mrs. Spatum, Mon 15 Feb 2010, 13:22, 4 replies)

This
sounds a lot like my Mother's early years.
She also grew up to be a great person, and you're right to cherish even the silly little things about her, mums rule.
(Sir Clitherington Smythe offers him yourself., Mon 15 Feb 2010, 14:14, closed)

"my mum is a ginger Catholic orphan"
That reminds me of the beginning of Angela's Ashes

"Da wurst ting in da werld, is te be Oirish, but worse dan being Oirish, is being poor and Oirish. Worse dan being poor and Oirish, is ter be a poor Oirish woman. Worse dan being a poor, Oirish woman, is to be a poor Cattalick Oirish woman ... "
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 15 Feb 2010, 16:10, closed)

Jealousy is a nasty thing
So you get a click for your mums sake.
(Le Grenouille, Mon 15 Feb 2010, 22:04, closed)

Your Mum
sounds ace
( venezuelan beaver cheese is mortally afraid of spoons, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 4:14, closed)