Mothers’ Day memory

Despite me sometimes calling him things a dog wouldn’t lick (as our Auntie Eirlys used to say) Fester does have his romantic moments; mostly accidental.

Many years ago, when the boys were about six and four, I spent most of Mothers’ Day weekend visiting my sister in London (I can’t remember why).  I almost always go to London by train and was scheduled to arrive in Newcastle late afternoon of Mothering Sunday.  However there were engineering works on the East Coast Mainline so it was a bus replacement service from York. 

As the bus pulled in under the portico of Central Station I heard an “Aww” from female fellow passengers.

Standing, waiting in a row against the wall were Fester, Ferretfingers and Thunderthighs each holding a bunch of pink carnations and looking as cute as a Hallmark card.

I wish all mothers reading this a lovely day – and comfort if your child is no longer with us.

If your mother is still around, and compos mentis, let her know you appreciate her (even if she is sometimes a pain – it’s in our job description).

If, like mine, she has passed away buy a bunch of flowers anyway and put them where you can enjoy them:  in memory of love.