I thought yesterday was going to be a quiet day.
How wrong I was.
I was sitting here quietly pirating a couple of films and enjoying the gentle breeze through the open door and the sound of the birds singing, when the next thing a mob came charging across the lawn and into the house.
The mob was led by Granddaughter the Younger [who is always first and loudest]. followed by Grandson, Granddaughter the Elder, the latter’s Boyfriend, the Dog [a big black sloppy brute who seems to think I’m her daddy], a Niece and finally Daughter. I had forgotten it was Mother’s Day. [Or is it Mothers’ Day?]
Anyways, Daughter announced that she had brought the mob to do some gardening. It’s not often I have a bunch of slaves so I made the most of it. They went mad with saws, loppers, secateurs, clippers and the tractor mower. Mayhem ensued and chunks of trees, bushes and shrubs took the brunt of the damage.
At one point Granddaughter the Elder’s boyfriend discovered my slash-hook which is a lethal weapon. It is a long heavy handle with a really nasty looking hooked blade on the end – a favourite weapon of choice with some of the low life around here. He went mad with it, as only teenagers can. I haven’t surveyed the worst of the damage from that yet.
Granddaughter the Elder’s Boyfriend is a nice lad. I’ll call him GEB as “Granddaughter the Elder’s Boyfriend” is a bit long to type. The first thing to note about him is he is fucking tall. I literally have to look up to him as he towers over me [and I’m well over the six foot mark]. He’s very quiet and by all accounts spends his life playing basketball, eating pizza and getting up to naughty things with Granddaughter the Elder [yes – I was his age once; all hormones and appetites].
All is quiet again today. The grass has had its first cut and now resembles a lawn rather than a meadow. A few bushes that were there yesterday morning aren’t there any more. My soft drinks supply is severely depleted but I managed to hide the alcohol.
I am now enjoying the quiet sound of birdsong and the lovely smell of freshly mown hay.
It is, of course, nothing to do with mothers (or even mother’s or mothers’) – it is Mothering Sunday which, in the distant past, was a day when folk working away, usually lowly live-in domestic staff, were give the day off in order to visit their home, or ‘mother’, church in their native parish. Not much marketing to be made from that boring situation, so the thing has morphed into the card, flower & chocolate expenditure frenzy we see today.
You did much better than that by getting a free day’s land-labour – and you didn’t even need to give birth personally to qualify. Well done.
Indeed you are right. My ma was a stickler for traditional English titles and would have blanched at “Mothers Day”. Maybe that’s why I subconsciously got it wrong?
We ended up with four daughters in all. Each of them now has a brood of their own.
From a tactical standpoint Mother’s Day (and of course now Father’s Day with the sons in law added) ranks right up there with the Normandy landings on D Day.
It has crossed my mind that I could potentially soon be a Great Grandad. Though I sincerely hope not…..