Gogglebox is my giggle
My mum always said: “If you have a mother, cherish her with care because you will never know her value until you see her empty chair.”
And that’s true.
I lost my mum a year after my husband Colin. I cherished her every minute and miss her every day.
We were best friends and she made me laugh like no other. She’d think it was the funniest thing ever that I have a newspaper column and she’d have tried to take it over.
We were so close, we could go shopping separately and buy each other exactly the same gift or card.
And if we had an attack of the giggles, we might be bent double for a good half-hour.
My mum was like my boys’ second mum. When Jonathan and Robert went to her house for a sleepover, they treated her house like their own.
Mum would tell me to enjoy a nice lie-in the next day.
But when our Robert screwed up an old newspaper into a ball and kept kicking it off her pantry walls, she added: “Don’t leave the lie-in too long.”
Mum had a sixth sense whenever me and Colin had a row.
We’d be doing our absolute best to speak to each other normally and disguise any frostiness, and she’d say: “What’ve you buggers been rowing about now, then?”
She always said it was my fault because I was mouthy and Colin was placid – and she was right.
Mum instinctively knew if I hadn’t stretched the weekly budget out enough and would turn up at my door with a bag full of meat from the butcher. And she was the only one who could say things to me straight.
I put on weight after having my son Jonathan, and more again with Robert, and she said: “Our Val, you look all right from the front. But you look like a big duck waddling from the back.”
I took myself to WeightWatchers because I trusted I’d been told the truth by someone with only my best interests at heart.
So although there are adverts for Mother’s Day all over the place, no mum I know really minds what gift they might receive on the day.
What means much more is just knowing, every day, that they are loved.
SNAP HAPPY Me with my beloved late husband Colin
When a family member is sick they consume your thoughts. So I feel for the Queen now Prince
Weekends can feel like a bit of a non-event during lockdown. But now Gogglebox is back on Friday nights, they start with a lift and a laugh.
I’d happily move in with the families and maybe my first choice would be the Malones in Manchester because they always have the best cakes on their coffee table: tarts,
OF TEA Kate
Swiss rolls and plump iced buns. As they watched the Government announcement about restrictions ending on June 21, dad Tom said to his wife Julie: “What day is that? A Monday. I’m booking the Tuesday off work.”
I howled to think of him running straight to the pub to have a skinful. It’s so funny and refreshing to see such down-to-earth people on telly. I
Philip is in hospital recovering from a heart operation. She loves him so he must be on her mind constantly. The Queen really shouldn’t have anything else on her mind right now and responding to Harry and Meghan’s claims in her Oprah Winfrey interview is the last thing she needs – especially because by the sound of the trailers, they’re going to drop bombshells. I wish the interview would be postponed until Prince Philip recovers.
They may be the Royal Family, but they’re still a family with feelings. All the hullabaloo makes Kate and William seem even nicer.
I reckon if Kate popped in to see me, I could say,
The Malone family also adore Jenny and Lee. My son Jonathan says Jenny’s just like me because she says things back to front.
Whenever she’s on screen, he tells his daughter Caitlin: “There’s Nana.”
I’m recording the series so I can re-watch an episode if I feel my mood start to dip.
At least I think I’ve set it to record – sometimes my smart TV is a bit too smart for me.
“Get the kettle on and let’s have a cup of tea”, and she’d give me a lovely smile and ask if I’d like one sugar or two. She seems beautifully regal yet also perfectly friendly. I’d still dunk my Rich Tea in my cup if Kate was here. And I reckon she might be a dunker, too.
But I bet she doesn’t leave her biscuit in as long as me so it drops to the bottom and has to be scraped out with a spoon. Now that’s class.
I’m lucky in lockdown because if ever I feel a pang of loneliness, I open my memory box where I keep all the letters from you. I like to call you friends, not just readers.
Within minutes I’m smiling and wishing I could meet each one of you for a coffee, a chat and a great big laugh. Special thanks must go to Elsie
REACH OUT With grandson Charlie
I’ve been working on my hug list since March last year.
So now I’ve started to think in great detail about not just who I want to cuddle when it’s safe to embrace, but exactly how I’d like the cuddles to be.
Robert’s eldest son Charlie is 17 and before lockdown, he started giving me hugs with pats on the back.
I’m not having that.
I’ve told him I need him to open his arms wide, wrap them around me and not let go.
My only worry is hugging him so tight he might have no breath left.
from Wellingborough, Northants, who made me a little bag to help keep my mobile with me at all times.
It has footballers on the material and Elsie even sent instructions on how I should use it.
It’s so thoughtful, as now my phone won’t slide from inside my waistband to my knickers again.
Huge thanks also to Carol from Norwich, whose husband drew a colouring book of birds that’s so beautiful I don’t want to colour it in case I spoil it. What a talent he has.
And to Pauline from Upminster, Essex, I cannot thank you enough for your picture frame, which came at just the right time as Colin’s ninth anniversary is near. I say hello to the picture every morning.
A big thank you to every one of you for keeping my chin up.