Livin’ la vida LONDON
KERRE’S MUM HEADS TO OLD BLIGHTY AND HAS THE TIME OF HER LIFE
If I’m lucky enough to live to my 80s, I hope that I inherit the same sense of adventure and derring-do that my mother exhibits. I’ve admired her for years. She was widowed far too young – just as her own mother was – but forged a wonderful life for herself.
She is physically fit, mentally alert and her fabulous sense of humour means that she has a broad and extensive network of friends.
There is a lot to admire about my little mother. Even so, I was a little concerned when she said she wanted to come to England with me as I helped out my daughter with the new baby. Having been, for all intents and purposes, a live-in nanny when baby Bart was born last year, I knew that I would have very little spare time with a brand-new baby in the house, along with a 21-month-old.
I didn’t want to leave Mum in the lurch when she arrived in London for the first time in nearly 20 years but, at the same time, I didn’t want to let down my daughter and son-in-law who needed me to be available to them – especially given my son-in-law had broken his leg just before their daughter was born.
Mum assured me she would be fine. She was travelling with her cousin, who’s like a sister to her and an aunt to me, and who has travelled extensively. They would be staying in a house a mere 20 minutes’ drive from where I would be, so they weren’t a million miles away if they needed me. They individually and jointly promised that they were only in London to meet the new baby and have their own adventures and were there to be a help and not a hindrance.
Despite the fact that these are two utterly splendid women, I did have my doubts. They were in south-east London and getting anywhere would involve a fair bit of planning. They are both open and friendly, and good at striking up conversation – but this was London. One of the world’s great cities, full of people on the make, striving to get one rung higher.
Everybody who has lived in New York or London or Paris says how ruthless the locals are and how little they care for anyone they encounter. Can you blame me for worrying about two lovely women I care deeply for wandering around Greater London assuming the best of everyone? I had a few sleepless nights before they arrived and not just because of the new baby.
I should never have doubted them. We met them the same night they’d arrived, after 30 hours of travelling, and they were full of stories − laughing with and at each other, and embellishing each adventure.
They made firm friends of the neighbours within days, and despite being warned by all and sundry not to strike up conversations with strangers and to never go out after dark, the very first time they ventured up the road to the little village for supplies − in the dark − they came back with a new friend.
He was a lovely Samoan man, who had played in the Rugby League World Cup some years ago and made London his home after falling in love with an English girl. He saw two women of a certain vintage carrying heavy shopping bags and offered to carry the bags home for them. Mum and Mary accepted gratefully and as it turned out, they weren’t robbed and mugged. They met a lovely man with an interesting back story and he has become another chapter in their amazing adventure.
It all worked out brilliantly. They were wonderful to meet up with – when they had the time. Theirs was a full and rich social diary. I had to book in a few days ahead if I wanted to see them. They are truly magnificent. And I can only hope that I have inherited at least a smidgen of their chutzpah.