Morning Mum,

‘Morning my Love.’

It’s chucking it down and blowing a gale here today.

‘Is it Love? Did Frankie take a coat?’

Yes, I insisted she draped it over her arm as she backed out the door with a piece of toast in her mouth, her lunch box swinging off her shoulder and her heavy backpack weighing her down and wedging her in the doorframe.

‘Mum I’m fine.’ She sighed, looking like a Buckeroo donkey, ‘I won’t need it, it’s warm out.’

‘I know Love, but take it just in case.’ I told her, adding it to her load.  I swear I was channeling you in that moment. I could hear you in my ear telling her to ‘take it and be on the safe side.’

She rolled her eyes but took my advice, I’m glad she did because as I write, I can see lightning outside the window and Dennis staring at me, anticipating the next clap of thunder.  Getting him to go out for a wee in this is virtually impossible, he’s going to have to hold it in.

I’m not dressed yet, I’ll shift myself in a minute but I just thought I’d check in with you first.  

This conversation isn’t very exciting is it Mum?

It’s dull, boring, monotonous.

‘It’s not Love, it’s life.’

You’re right I suppose, but life is dull, boring and monotonous quite a lot of the time isn’t it?

‘Yes, but there’s nothing wrong with that, things need to take a slower pace, some conversations need to be repeated again and again. How can you shine without recognising dullness?’ 

I suppose it’s like the weather today, you’re right, dull as dishwater.

‘Yes, I know it’s miserable out there today but try not to look at it like that. It’s glorious for all the plants.  Get wrapped up and go out in it, take a brolly.’

You used to go out in all weathers didn’t you Mum?  I can see you now, returning home wearing your little plastic rain hood and wrestling to close your umbrella as you backed in the kitchen door.  You wouldn’t use the weather as an excuse to stay in, if anything you saw it as a personal challenge to get out there and conquer the elements.

I remember helping you with your bags as you came in, watching you wipe your feet on the black rubber mat and Dad offering to take your coat for you.

‘Leave it in the porch Geoff.’ You’d say, ‘Don’t put it on the end of the banister, it’ll drip on the carpet.’

You must have said the same thing to him hundreds of times.

‘All right Love,’ he’d say and then go and flick the kettle on to make you a brew to warm you up.

I miss, dull, boring, monotony, you’re right.  It was safe and predictable.

It was home.

It wasn’t always a show and dance, it was a wet brolly and your rain hood drying on the radiator.

How lucky we were.

Love as always,

Queen x

17/07/2023