My mum was arrested in 2010 for threatening a violent teenage gang with her antique WW1 tin gun. Yes, really.  It frightened them off for a bit, until they realised that she was about to stagger through a wooded pathway on her way to the off licence to pick up another half bottle of whiskey.  A neighbour saw the incident and called the police, because he thought Mum was about to get beaten up.  The police officers intercepted her at the end of the path, the teenagers scattered and then she was put in handcuffs in the back of the police car after a round of fisticuffs that she claimed she’d win.  Even in this distressing situation she made me laugh – “Sonia darling, come and get me, they’ve had me in cufflinks all night.”  Cufflinks, Mum?  “Yes, ****ing cufflinks! Can you believe it?” I was banned from seeing her as the authorities needed to section and assess her on their own and although I hated them for it at the time, it was exactly the right thing for her – aged 80.  Out of danger came safety and after 80 years of pandemonium came peace.

I’ve been rummaging through our photos today, seeking out the pictures that will go into the book I’m currently planning.  I’ve worked out that there were at least 50 incidents within which Mum’s antics have played an awkward, embarrassing and downright hilarious part.  They’re all universal life events that I think everyone can relate to; birthday parties, trips to the zoo, first dates, big school, holidays, cinema visits etc.  The hilarious insights have come to me in later life as some (OK, all) of them were excruciating at the time, as those of you who’ve been reading this blog will have gathered.  She was sensationally naughty, my Mum.  Rules, protocols or social norms just didn’t apply to her and I thank her every day for that gift of breaking rules, exploring explanations and questioning the world around me.  The picture I’ve chosen for this blog is Mum at 85 holding up her homework.  She loved words and as her memory started to fail, I spent a lot of time trying to stimulate her back into a bit of creative writing,  This exercise makes me laugh so much – just in case you can’t read it, here’s the transcript.  The bits in brackets are Mum’s fill-ins between the main structure.

Once upon a time there was a (DAY) who (NO OTHER) lived in (CAMBRIDGE).  One day two (TAXIS) arrived and took the (LAVATORY) away.  Oh dear, said (MRS. EARDLEY), that’s (DENNIS’S FOOTBALL-POST).  So they (RAMPAGED) on their (STADIUM) and (SALUTED THE FC MANAGERS – LANDSLIP)  Thank you.  Margaret.

All her answers were things that she’d been thinking about that day – and all of them related to her previous job as an Arsenal Football Ground telephonist, her first husband, Dennis and thoughts that only she could fathom.  Her dementia meant that she had trouble accessing memories when asked about them directly, so I learned to find other ways to help her dig them out.  Somehow she wove those memories into a little story which made perfect sense to her.  We both laughed about it, because she could see the humour in her thought process when it was written down.  “Oh dear, Sonia darling, am I THAT crazy?  Really?” No, Mum I told her – you’re not crazy, you just get your thoughts out in a slightly different way to most people.  She seemed happy with that answer and ordered us all chicken salads and custard cream biscuits, even though the care home was closing the kitchen.  Bless them, they made us all chicken salads and broke out the biscuits, because Mum was their favourite resident.   We played the story game a lot more with her and some of the the other residents until Mum’s memory and interest started to diminish.

I’m just wondering about how to get a taxi full of toilets and a salute to the FC managers into one of the chapters of the new book.  Maybe I’ll just include a chapter on “homework” and include this and the incident where she tried to imitate my 5-year old hand-writing for a homework project on birds.  “Sonia Beldom – come to the front of the class!” shouted my teacher.  Oh Gawd, what have I or my mum done NOW? I thought to myself. “The song thrush poos all night long and sings Christmas carols to all who want to listen????  Hmmmm – did YOU write this?”  No Miss, I know that poo has an “h” at the end.  That classroom corner was a nice quiet relief to stand in for half an hour I can tell you.  I learned in that moment what “behind someone’s back” really meant and yes, Algnernon Road junior school class of 196…whatever, I COULD hear you and I’ll have you know that she was the best mum a daughter could ever have, so there!

There are 100 anecdotes to tell, however “MUMCONTROLLABLE – 50 Ways to Embarrass Your Daughter” does have a ring to it, doesn’t it?  I’ve wondered about biffing the chapter on nuns, although it was funny in hindsight when she used to make me hold their hands before she ran away.  It was Mum doing what she thought was best for her little girl whenever she could feel the clouds descending.  I think I’ll extend the chapter to include other holy teachers, all of whom have had the metaphorical gun held to their heads for rituals and actions that Mum considered daft – I’ll tell you about the prayer mat hiding incident another time.

 

 

 

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