Where would we be without the random writings of one of the wittiest fellas from Felixstowe. Here’s the lovely random ramblings from local lad, Dean Wales…
I love my dear old mum, let’s face it, who doesn’t idolise their dearest mater? But of late I’ve been avoiding popping round to see her. Not because I’ve not wanted to be with her, no not at all! I adore the time I spend in her company, but I simply cannot get away!
It’s got to a point now that I’ve had to make excuses to avoid the quick drop-by during lunch breaks or on my way home because I know I’ll end up getting really, really delayed.
I don’t know what it is but for some reason, lately the words: “I can’t stay long” or “I really better get off now” quite frankly fail to register.
What’s that all about?
Is it a natural manifestation for 70-something mothers to no longer acknowledge that their offspring could possibly have anywhere else to go? It’s like there’s some kind of departure verb filter that kicks in at the turn of a mother’s seventh decade.
You see, it appears I’m not alone. When I’ve mentioned this phenomenon to my contemporaries, they’ve all said without fail, their mum’s exactly the same.
The thing is, I now know when it’s coming and so visits are planned with military precision.
Now, I must give off some signal, whether it’s subtle body language or an absconding pheromone that only my ma can detect, because within a microsecond of considering getting up and going, her slippers are off and a comfy pair of sling-backs are on and buckled.
If I clock this behavioural pattern in time, I’ll try and duck the situation by saying: “I’m going to have to rush and oh, it’s really rather chilly outside.”
More often than not, however, she’s out of the Parker Knoll Penhurst chair in Baslow Stripe Mink, with wing back feature and hand-crafted cabriolet legs, her cardie is on and buttoned, her ‘walking-out’ glasses are on and she’s by my car to bid farewell… after she’s told me about my uncle’s bowels, Fanny’s funeral, the cost of a set and pink rinse…
Written by Dean Wales