Time Spent With Mum

On Thursday I travelled ‘up North’ to visit my mother who still lives in the town that I grew up in, which is why I’m delayed in replying to all the comments I’ve received.

 
While I hate travelling long distances by train (screaming kids on every journey often make me feel stressed), there’s a certain point where I always get a little rush of excitement – the sight of the mast and Rivington Pike on the hills always lets me know that I’m ‘home’, even though I haven’t lived there for twelve years and my heart really lies a hundred miles away in Birmingham. 
 
Image
 
I love spending time with Mum, and I’m very proud of the relationship that we have. She’s stopped being a parental figure and has become more of a friend – we’re very similar and can talk about most things. 
 
Upon arrival at her house I was greeted by her three manic dogs and I took my usual position on the couch. She’d been out and bought all my favourite food – ingredients for panini’s, cherry bakewells, olives, Peppardew peppers, cheese and crackers, tomato chutney, new potatoes, Seabrook crisps… I’d been thoroughly spoilt. We chatted, laughed, watched TV, ate some gorgeous meals (Mum is an amazing cook) and then this morning we went shopping, where I treated her to some new clothes and perfume. I like the fact that I can spoil her too.
 
I’ve spent the last few days enjoying cuddles with her three doggies too. They’re very cute, if a bit stinky as one has wind problems, but they’re very affectionate and love being fussed. She has three of them:
 
Jess
Image 
 
Dennis
Image 
 
Max
Image 
 
I’m grateful to have a mother like her that I can not only relate to, but I can thoroughly relax and enjoy myself. It’s common knowledge that is girls turn into our mothers, and that’s absolutely fine with me! 
 
Top picture credit: Wikipedia 

18 thoughts on “Time Spent With Mum

  1. This is lovely, Suzie. You took me back. My mum died three and half years ago and I still miss her. You reminded me of the friendship we shared and how relationships mature. as we become adults and start to understand who mum is. I don’t need to tell you to value this time. You obviously already do. Thank you for sharing this mother/daughter glimpse. Beautiful.x

  2. I spent some of my misspent youth between the city or Birmingham, Wolverhampton, Albrighton and the RAF camp of Cosford where I did my trade training as a Teleprinter Operator, Cosford known for the sporting champions that it breed, Jeff Capes trained there, I trained to type 365 words in 5 minutes, training to learn the Murry Code and how to send messages to towers masquerading of NATO countries, we could also look over and watch the Bomb Disposal guys train trying to not get electric shock while defusing a mock bomb, the cinema, the made friends I had, the classroom work and the beautiful female officer who used to teach us, which was a wrong decision putting a young, beautiful, female officer to trained horny 17-19 year old males, no wonder why we kept failing.
    I loved Birmingham, even since being ill from school and watching Pebble Mill at 1, I could see the cars going by on the road across the field from the studio windows, wondering what it would be like to live there.
    The first person I met from Birmingham was a Frasiethorpe Elim Church Youth Camp just a few miles south of Bridlington, we were packed off there for two weeks or Pentecostal love, faith and forgiveness while being bullied by the older boys in charge of our tent. The girl from Brumm and I found friendship with each other and spent our two weeks sitting, eating, walking, talking, praying and crying together…….I wish I could remember her name…… I hated being bullied, the food, she hated being bullied and the very smelly and basic toilets quite often she would end up doing the ‘potty dance’ before hiding behind a hedge, she used to say even that was better then those buckets.
    After the two weeks of part torture, part joy, part fun, we parted company with a hug and wiping of tears, I was 13, she was 12 we said we would write, we did once, but life passed us by, when sent to Fraisethorpe again she was not there, but the bullying was and new friends to talk with, walk with, laugh with and yes they hated the toilets and the bullying, so we found solace in each other, survived another church camp, next time I was 15 year old, just try ad make me go!!
    Every time I hear, read or think about Birmingham my friend from my memory and my time at RAF Cosford pops into my head and it always will.
    Thank you Suzie 🙂

      • Your so welcome, I rely on triggers to help me remember, in 1989 I had a motorcycle accident which I broke my back, but also evennthough the helmet protected my head the dunt moved my brain and I have lost a huge part of my life, memory wise a lot of my teenage and adult life upto ghe day of the accident. Memories are like deja vue so while reading your post certain memories come bouncing back and as I wrote back to you, while I wrote triggers are tripped. So thats why I am so grateful. 😀

  3. Greetings human. My human and I like your blog (although I read it before she does because she’s always tied up watching the baby human).

    We like that you are close to your mum. My human is very close to her daughters too and they spend a lot of time together.
    Unfortunately for me, the baby human comes with the deal so I spend a lot of time hiding.

    Shrimp (follow me on Twitter…@Cheap_Trills)

  4. In Scotland there is a saying ” a son is a son ’til he takes a wife, but a daughter is a daughter all of her life” Annabell and my mum got on really well together, probably because her own mother was 15,000 miles away. I loved the photographs of the dogs, particularly the middle one :o)

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s