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May 11, 2005
Oh Dear! I’m turning into my Mother…
Don’t worry I haven’t yet sunk so low as to spit on a bit of screwed up tissue and wipe my daughter’s dirty face with it. THAT is just repulsive but I am beginning to worry if it is now only one step away.
My Mum is famed the world over for crying at any given opportunity whilst watching TV. Little House on the Prairie, Lassie, The Royal Wedding, ET blah blah blah. You name it, she cried it.
My brother and I haven’t yet forgiven her for shedding buckets of tears during Scot and Charlene’s wedding in 1988. ET we could understand but Neighbours is taking it all a touch too far. It possibly also has something to do with the fact that my brother had a play date for tea that day, but where sentimentality is concerned my mother has no shame.*
I used to cry too, Lassie used to set me off each and every time and my Mum and I used to hold hands and sob in solidarity. But then I hit my 6th birthday and I decided that crying was for babies (and Mummies) and I stopped just like that.
I did have a brief relapse when I was about 15 and I watched this play on BBC2. I have no recollection of what it was called or who wrote it (if anyone could shed any light on this, I would be eternally grateful) but it was about this little old lady who was dying in hospital and she had this little darling old hubby who couldn’t cook a scrap or do any housework. So gradually bit by bit she’d send him home with a recipe, simple at first and getting progressively more difficult until she had taught him how to cope without her. Anyway come her birthday, he decided to surprise her with a homemade cake. It was beautiful, he brought it in for her and there she was, dead. I hated that author for doing that I mean she could at least have tasted a slice before popping her clogs. That was a really arsey thing to do. So I’m sure you’ll agree as relapses go, that one could be forgiven.
So what is going on this week then? First there was Lion King after the sad demise of Bertie Bird and last night I watched Meera Syal’s Life isn’t all Ha Ha Hee Hee. No I didn’t cry during the wedding (as I’m sure my Mum did but I haven’t asked her yet) because that sure as hell, was going pear shaped. What touched me was that eloquent voice over at the end, (which was probably lifted straight from the novel) talking about lives never being quite how we wanted them to be yet we couldn’t be without our dreams because what else could we live for? (Sorry Meera I just killed your work. Please forgive me)
Ok so I didn’t actually cry but I had that nasty tell-tale stingy sensation in my throat that caused me to quickly check that no one was looking (thankfully kid was in bed and Mr. PE was out) I don’t think I allowed a drop to part from my tear duct but I recognise the signs all the same.
I’m not quite ready for you to shoot me yet but maybe you should just load up ready for when I give you the sign.
* Mother if you are reading this. We wouldn’t change you for the world. Honest XXXX
Posted by purple elephant at May 11, 2005 07:18 PM