The Best of Mum's the Word

On local properties for sale:
"It has a lovely sweeping garden and at least four bedrooms. The man that used to live there died in the bath."

On her granddaughter:
"She does edge on the common side"

On the Greek relatives:
"They were all travelling down to Cheltenham this weekend as they thought your father was going to pass away. They'll be so disappointed when they find out that they have had a wasted journey."

To the woman librarian:
"Gosh, you've been working here for years and you seem to look younger and younger. Did you get divorced?"To the shop assistant in the cake shop:"Can you tell me how many prawns are in this one?"

On the couple walking on the other side of the road (at full volume):
"Oh look, there's Mr and Mrs Fotheringham. Hasn't she got a good bust? Don't you think?"

To her overweight goth neighbour:
"Oh hello. I've not seen you pass my window in ages. You're like a ship in full sail."

To her optician during a sight test:
"W....O.....J.....E...erm....they have got smaller. Can I ask my son what the letters are?"

On fragrance:
"I won’t bother putting on any spray. I can see you’re wearing enough perfume for both of us"

Sending me her early morning answer phone message:
"Just to say that I'm going into town on the early bus. I will come straight back as I'm not feeling too well. I may faint......... Just so you know..."

On the man she sees through her net curtains:
"Look at that man across the road with his bottom coming out of his trousers"

On thwarting past admirers:
"That widower took me to his car. When we were sat in, he put his hand on my leg and said - 'You do realize my dear that I have a great deal of money'. "

On getting her GP's diagnosis:
"I said to him ARTHRITIS! Don't be RIDICULOUS. Have you even read my notes?"

Hand-written sign on front door to Jehovah's Witnesses, Avon ladies and trade cold callers:
"If there is no answer, I'm dead."

To my dad when she is sat trying to chat to her visitors:
"Oh do shut up Michael. You're supposed to be dead anyway"

To an Asian nurse in the hospital ward:
"Oh hello, aren't you a pretty girl. How long have you been over here in England?"

To the lady in the local dry cleaners:
"Well I don't want them saying at my funeral that I had unstarched napkins"

On the woman next door with the loud voice:
"You'd think she'd get a job in Tesco working on the Tannoy"

On the answer phone:
"You said to only ring if it was an emergency. Well I won't bother you but it's just that I've run out of Youth Dew by Estee Lauder"

On that fit bloke:
"He had one of those ‘look at me’ T-shirts on"

On suffering:
"You go and enjoy yourselves. I’ve got my candle and a bit of cheese left. You have a nice time. Don’t worry about me being here all on my own, I’m used to it after all these years."

On the widow at No.57:
"So she buys ready done roast potatoes? She wants to have a think about doing real ones. Maybe if she spent less time in her garden and more in the kitchen her husband would still be around. Who am I to judge?"

On passenger seat navigation:
"You know me. I’m flexible either way. I would have done the town route but honestly it’s you’re choice. Who am I to say? You do what you think is best. Of course via the one way system is quicker but you know best."

On couture:
Neighbour: "The thing is I’ve never been that interested in clothes or interior design."Mum: "Well I can see that’s true."

On shopping for house wares:
"I suppose you like that one do you? I thought that one would appeal to you. It’s got that mass-market, trashy feel."

On counter-service banking:
" Only clean bank notes please"On her shampoo & set"Well my current hairdresser did my roots but kept leaving me to speak on one of those mobile telephones. I shan’t go again. I’ll make do with washing up liquid."

On how to make an appointment at the vets:
"So you say because Tabitha’s vet is still on holiday, she’ll have to see the other woman that is like a man? My Tabitha doesn’t want that thermometer up her bottom either. Well you wouldn’t like it, would you?"

On her TV digibox (relating on telephone):
"Well I can’t work out what it is on at the moment. I had it covered over with a throw but when my son comes to visit he normally finds out how to switch it on. It’s on one of those Sky box things that was brought here. Those men connected it last summer with dirty boots on my carpet. I don’t know if it’s a film or a play but there are elves jumping up and down in front of what seems to be the moon. Oh and now there’s that woman from that other thing loading up a washing machine. I much prefer the wireless to be honest. This colour television on a funny channel seems to be all adverts and American people. I can honestly say, the only thing I saw I liked since it was brought in was my granddaughters wedding on one of those VD things and I don’t know how we ever managed that."

A letter to my dad...

You know I can’t do grief on demand. When you finally went, I could breathe out again and think of all the fun and amusing things. Those two stifling years at the end were and still are unreal to me. I need to stick with thoughts of your prime, the others will have to do their whaling and tears. My mind won’t let me register your passing, it was only a bit of admin isn’t it? Let me pretend you’re still there in the way I knew you.

In that hospital I watched mum plump up your pillows. Your face shone in ecstasy as your princess was with you.Could you feel me squeezing your hand? We never easily expressed emotion with each other but did you go knowing how dearly I loved you? Mum verbalised her usual trivia yet she only spoke these filler words to break our silence so full of dread and late regrets. You looked at us with complete knowing, a wisdom that transcended time and your present weak physical being.

I was overcome with the new vision of you that I could not fathom. I fled to that day room and wept in front of a home makeover programme so you would not see my belly cry. As visiting time cruelly ticked on, I knew our reluctant performance would be ending soon. We were three cast members amongst a hateful script that we knew was written to lead your last show.

Mum walked you along the tubular corridor. A bleak walk, absurdly short so we’d have to summon up mental images of green lush scenery, a Cotswold breeze and hilltop views. We’d superimpose these coloured fantasies over the hospital notice boards, disinfectant smell and grimy windows overlooking the air conditioning pipes.

Remember when we all stood in front of the electric sliding door exit? You, the child, pleaded to come with us instead of turning back to grey suffocating walls of nothing. You wanted to come back and rest in Mum’s lavender duvet of dreams. The other side of the door had air and more life, I wanted to escape, you did too. In your mind you were well and would be planning a country excursion for my mum, a barbecue or perhaps a wedding celebration.

As mum walked you back to the ward, I sat on a plastic chair and stared along the long corridor tunnel. My eye vision at the back of you both, framed by the sharp tunnel perspective of the corridor to the horizon. I will not forget the corridor scene dad. It looked like a mum leading a little Greek boy in pyjamas back to his bed. You clung to her with your short, shrunken frame walking further and further away from my view. An inseparable romance, yet you, a frightened lost boy being guided back to bed by his Disney angel.

We all knew what was to come. Life as you wanted it had become impossible. The struggle needed to end. Two years on, I still can’t grasp that you’ve really gone. You are part of me every day and can’t be taken. Dad, I can’t keep going to that cemetery, as I just don’t feel you are there. We’ll be together when I head into your part of the town OK? I’ll feel you near me at the car boot sale, at any barbershop, down the Cotswold lanes and feeling the sun on your Greek Island. I want to forget visiting time and remember your character, your accent, your gestures, your phrases, your way.

Mum's the word

On what could happen:
"I will worry about you going to Birmingham for the day. What will you do if someone runs up to you and snatches your glasses from your face?"

La Bouffant hour - JVC channel 256

For anyone who missed my shopping hour on JVC yesterday, it actually went out on Freeview channel 256 against Britain’s Got Talent so here’s a quick glimpse of what you missed.

Corinne: Jake, it’s a real privilege to actually have you here in the JVC studio and on this hour we are looking at the joyous range of exclusive La Bouffant products. How are you my love pot?
Jake: Hello my darling. You can feel there’s a real buzz going on here at JVC today. Well Corinne, this is a real first on JVC because all our phone lines are already jammed with callers and we haven’t even begun our first item yet. I am going to be really honest with you now. The Bouffant range is not available in ANY shops so our lucky viewers are going to be the first to adorn their homes with these unique and eye catching creations. These have to be the quintessential items everyone desires. Katie Price has some of his items on her Christmas list and the royal family of Denmark are rumoured to have an ivory Bouffant valance.
Corinne:Wow! What great tastes those Danes have. Now JVC viewers can aspire to royal luxury. That’s the great thing about Jake’s La Bouffant hours here on JVC. Unleashing the possibilities for unlimited aspirational shopping.
Don’t tease us, tell us more Jake, I’m getting quite flushed with all the excitement.
Jake: Let me tell you Corinne, Monsieur Bouffant is specially commissioned to design for lots of famous celebrities as well as normal everyday people who watch JVC at home all day.
Corinne: Which celebrities Jake?
Jake: Oh really famous ones Corinne
Corinne: His work captures a really iconic style doesn’t it, I’m so excited. Oh my gosh Jake is that the first item? I don’t know if you can see that at home but the spectrum of colours coming of that are absolutely staggering. Get it out Jake, let our viewers see the full impact. Oh my word. That’s quite surprising. I had no idea it was going to be on such a generous scale.
Jake: I know Corinne. This is something quite extraordinary. Designed by Monsieur Bouffant himself and custom made in his ‘Lumiere’ workshop just outside Telford, Shropshire, this is item 5602, the Bouffant ‘Eclipse’ bowl. These will sell out fast and as I mentioned earlier you will not, I repeat, will NOT be able to buy these in any stores. Camera 3 can I get you to pan in close so the viewers at home can really experience this staggering Bouffant masterpiece?
Corinne: Now Jake, Monsieur Bouffant meant this to be a strictly limited design didn’t he?
Jake: That’s absolutely right Corinne, he did this one and decided not to design any more. Do you know what? Remember the candle collection you showcased on the 'Shambolique' hour? Well what a superb companion this would make to any living room. What do I know, you could even pop it in the garden somewhere.
Corinne: Jake I’m going to get one of these myself if there’s any stock left because there’s always a time when I have guests around and I think I know now what would really make their evening really special.
Jake: What’s that my darling?
Corinne: Stepping in the room and being able to look at an authentic La Bouffant bowl
Jake: What a wonderful surprise for your guests! You’d really be giving them a memorable evening that they will probably never forget. Remember viewers, you don’t just have to have this bowl at home. Oh no. I travelled to the Italian coast last year and you know something Corinne? Have you ever got to your hotel room and the bowls they provide are just so uninspiring?
Corinne: Oh I know. It can really put a dampener on any trip. I nearly died when I saw the one they left in my room last year in Tuscany.
Jake: Imagine not having any of that anxiety or disappointment, when you can easily pack your very own bowl from the Bouffant collexionne.
Corinne: The price is really outrageously low isn’t it?
Jake: Completely outrageous and Corinne, you don’t just get the bowl. Here at JVC all orders come with complimentary cloths to polish any of the items in the entire Bouffant range so they stay dazzling throughout your life. They are made from real organic Telford Felt.
Corinne: This bowl really could change our viewers lives couldn’t it? Just by making one simple call to JVC. It could be someones epiphany and new beginning. Especially with all this recession nonsense. What could perk someone up more? I’ll tell you, 9 easy payments and a bowl to treasure for a lifetime.
Jake: Well Corinne, we actually had a call from a lady from Hull last Thursday who wanted to share with us and all the JVC viewers how much the Bouffant range had turned around her life. Please do stop calling Mrs Hughes, you are frightening our call centre staff.
Corinne: Jake, you don’t have to put jewellery or fruit in the bowl do you?
Jake: Oh my god no. The possibilities are infinite Corinne. Really let yourself go with this item and do what you feel expresses your signature character the most. You might want to put keys in it, wine gums, walnuts, the possibilities are endless. Monsieur Bouffant himself suggests in his latest style bible, also available here at JVC, that you can put in daintily arranged pairs of ankle socks tucked into pairs. Doing something with such flair in a bowl really makes it your own definitive signature piece.
Corinne: Can I touch it?
Jake: Please do, it really will not break if you touch it with hands.
Corinne: It’s so bowl like isn’t it. Mmmm. Item 5602, Le Bouffant bowl is selling fast so Q jump us now and get yours. Maybe you have a christening coming up or an exam. Maybe you are just sat at home thinking what to buy next. It really doesn’t matter to us, just pick up that phone and dial.
It’s so bowl shaped and solid. Can you hear that noise when I tap it? That’s real glass is it not?
Jake: Sure is my darling. Corinne we’ve got 55 minutes left to showcase the rest of Le Bouffant offers and exclusives. Imagine when we lived without Monsieur Bouffant and his magical product ideas.
Corinne. Corrinne?
Are you still there?

L S Lowry

The body of work painted by LS Lowry is often incorrectly dismissed as just ‘matchstick people’ set against industrial chimneys and warehouses in the north of England. His art was rarely accepted by the establishment and it wasn’t until his later years that he was able to experience serious interest, rave reviews and buyers for his work. Like many enduring music acts and loved art, his pictures fit no category pigeon-hole and are often dismissed as ‘populist’.

The bleak urban landscapes for me have a cosy quality wrapped up in a faux northern nostalgia. His primary and most comprehensive biographer is Shelley Rohde who has written extensively on Laurence Stephen Lowry’s journey, character, acclaim and legacy. His art has become somewhat of a British institution since the 1970’s which just before his passing, surprised the man himself!

By day he was a rent collector, a job for life. His mother went to bed at their home in Pendlebury for eight years, didn’t appreciate his talent and so after nursing her for years, he waited until she went to sleep each night and then painted into the dark hours up in the attic. Her pleasure in him was denied.

Not all of his work is as poster friendly as the recognisable Lancashire street scenes. There are some very uncomfortable works that are still cause for debate about the man’s inner feelings and psychiatric leanings.

He wore one suit at the easel and one for other times, enjoyed a mostly solitary approach to his daily life and was generally a contented quirky soul. To experience his work at its best, I recommend that it is seen in a collective gallery setting like the dedicated exhibition at The Lowry in Salford Quays.

Post war listed buildings

In their day, Art Deco buildings were loathed and hastily demolished, yet today, the remaining gems are restored with fondness. Should we learn from the hasty mistakes of the past and preserve Britain’s concrete monsters of the 60s and 70s? Post war listing applications are very complex to obtain but many buildings are now getting a second chance at a new life with public funding and English Heritage. These buildings were supposed to represent a futuristic vision but are now decaying in despair and disrepair.

In Listed on BBC Radio 4, Lucinda Lambton reported on the struggle of the Twentieth Century Society to preserve examples of 20th-century architecture which are now in danger of demolition. She began her investigation in Birmingham, where the city council wants to pull down the Central Library, and also looked at the Society's attempts to save a the Civic Centre in Plymouth. I’m asking you! Should we preserve the legacy of our retro concrete jungles or say goodbye to this depressing and drab era of architecture?

Banking crisis

I vowed to never accompany my mother into our local bank as the embarrassment is just too much. Mum is one of those people who if you work in retail, you’d want to flee from serving. Last month she managed to confuse about five of the staff with too much unnecessary personal information. She will often stand at the cashier’s desk explaining why she wants to make a withdrawal and what she plans to use it on. She also alerted the enquiry desk last month and told them that she does not want to be served again by "Miss Grumpy Guts" who my mother claimed was abrupt with her last time. The staff member in question was within sight and earshot as mum pointed her walking stick straight at her target of dislike.

I have also listened in horror as mother explains to the bank assistant that I am her son by her second marriage. "He’s had a heart attack you know", she’ll broadcast. "He banks with RBS in Church Street and is on his way to get a filling."

On one occasion the personal banker had to ask my mother to wait on a sofa as he fetched a form. He must have been gone all of ten seconds when she approached another member of staff saying that he’d been gone for ages and that "It would be quicker to fly to Cyprus."

This week I thought I had got off lightly. I am still recovering from my defibrillator op and was not in the mood for any cringe worthy public scenes. I sat on the bank sofa as she did her transaction over at the cashier’s desk. We then walked towards the exit and I reached for the automatic door button. I breathed a sigh of relief as we got closer to the exit steps when suddenly she reversed to the public enquiries desk at a confused assistant and queried loudly, "My son hasn’t set off any of your alarms then?"

My heart will go on (not Titanic)

Thanks to my loved ones, Boston Scientific and an amazing specialist, I'm still here to see what's next...

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=2NqhE9IhzZ4

13 reasons why it shouldn’t happen on a coach journey

Instead of the air-conditioned double decker featured on the advert, a licensed 1960’s coach rattles in to the station to pick up three times as many passengers as there are seats.

The last you see of your holdall is when it is thrown by the sweaty driver in a temper to the back of the boot where it will either sit crushed by everyone else’s or alternatively be snatched whilst you are unaware on-board at the next stop.

Queuing is only for the weakest as you have to join a rugby scrum of confusion to get on-board. After the scrum at least ten angry passengers have to get off and have their luggage identified and unloaded. All claim to have no booking whatsoever whilst shouting that they didn’t realise they needed a ticket because no one told them one was required to travel.

The cast of The Jeremy Kyle Show seated in row seven, decide that the driver must stop at McDonalds three minutes into the journey as someone’s Auntie has left their mobile phone at the counter.

You don’t get to read any of your book or listen to your newly loaded music player because the overweight lady next to you spilling out over both armrests tells you all about her angina and clinical depression.

Three female members of a Blackpool Hen party openly drink Special Brew and alight a cigarette oblivious to the rules or driver intervention.

The family on row seven get louder, lairy and bored throwing Monster Munch at passengers they think won’t complain.

There is no risk of getting settled because you learn that you will shortly have to disembark and unload then reload your own luggage at Preston as well as your scheduled connection stop at Birmingham.

Whilst we’re on about ‘that’ connection, there is a very unlikely probability that you will make the optimistic connection slot anyway judging by the gridlock on the M6.

The man in front of you eats smelly chicken tikka submarine rolls noisily whilst the screaming child behind, intentionally kicks the back of your seat for the first hour.

Just when you think you can’t endure any more, a baby starts to cry.

Your legs go dead as you have as much legroom and personal space as Houdini.

You vow never to suffer all this again, yet National Express is so cheap compared to National Rail.

Why we should do away with tipping

One sure thing that would go in my Room 101 alongside liquorice, horse racing and cryptic puzzles would be the act of tipping. Etiquette varies from one country to another. How many awkward taxi trips and restaurant visits have we had as a nation? With the steep tariff of taxis, surely we are already paying for the service and why do restaurant chains decide to split my tip with staff I’ve never even met? Many employers are under no legal obligation to even pass on the tip. When I do tip great service or believe that the gesture of tipping is deserved, then I want my own waiter/ess to keep it for themselves.

When I worked in notoriously low salaried retail, no one tipped me yet we are expected to tip hard up restaurant staff, hotel maids and now it seems, my binmen Keith and Jim want some of my wallet action . With some restaurants cunningly double charging gratuities and our nation feeling uneasy about how much to give, surely it’s time for these empty gestures to go. It is unacceptable in my opinion that waiting staff have been known to come back to diners at the end of their meal to inform me that they haven’t been tipped enough. This had happened to me abroad when I reluctantly tipped the standard 10% for what was in fact, painfully slow and disappointing service. We’ve all been there. The staff mutters abuse and look like they’ll spit at you on the way out. It’s unpleasant, spoils the atmosphere and is embarrassing in front of other diners. Now there’s a great reason to just hike the overall price and say goodbye to the archaic annoyance of tipping.