When I grow up I want to be just like my mum.
No really I do, I doubt there could be any greater compliment.
My mum is frightened by the internet, fears facebook like it’s the devil and hasn’t quite worked out if this blog is a good or a bad thing.
She is also quite possibly one of the world’s most fabulous people. She sees a problem and she fixes it, she sees hunger and she feeds it. Her scones and fruit salads have been sampled by almost everyone in my home town and she can always make more if you need them.
My children idolise her, to the extent that they are as naughty for her as they are for me so she really is like a second mother to them. She flies down the M1 like a bat out of yorkshire when we need her and quite honestly, we need her a lot
Sometimes we don’t say what we want to when we have the chance. I want to put down on paper how I feel about my dear old ma.
If mum ever reads this (she is a subscriber but not sure how to use email) I hope she sees the genuine adoration and affection behind the written word.
Thank you, for everything, like when Libby-Sue was in hospital, for running the twins birthday party, for when the children were born and when only you knew what it was like to have twins. Thank you for diet motivation and boxes of chocolates, for Alton Towers and Blackpool, for babysitting and farm trips. For washing, ironing and removing all dirt (and sorry it seems to have come back!) For cuddles when I was small and hugs now I am bigger.
I love you more than words can say, certainly not just for what you do but for who you are.
Dad – you are pretty marvellous as well and have exceptional taste in women.’