MY MOTHER'S PAINTBOX - a story in 100 words

MY MOTHER’S PAINTBOX

Mum was never without a project – running up dresses on the Singer, knitting jumpers or darning socks in the evenings.

After we left home, she turned her talents to less mundane pursuits. I still have some exquisite lace she made for a petticoat, two of her wood carvings stand on my windowsill, and she loved painting watercolours.

She said she wouldn’t need her paints in the nursing home, and gave them away, but recently the activities have included painting and she yearned for ‘some decent paints’ – a hint of artistic snobbery resurfacing.

So I bought her another paint-box.

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Not fiction this week - the image reminded me of something so recent that I couldn't think of anythng else in the few minutes I had before rushing off the get my first haircut in six months! Thanks to Rochelle for the photo and for hosting Friday Fictioneers. And now I must dash!   https://rochellewisoff.com/

SURVIVING CHRISTMAS - a true story

SURVIVING CHRISTMAS

It’s a battle-zone for many.

Parents or in-laws, turkey or beef, the Queen’s speech or a film – all are triggers for armed conflict. Far too much food and booze, and enforced closeness with people only seen once a year.

My Mum got away from it all. The septic tank at my brother’s house broke under the strain of too much rain, and I managed to get her into a nursing home at very short notice. She had Christmas dinner with brother, tomorrow with us, and a pub meal to come next Sunday.

Who wishes they could do the same?

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Every word of this is true! It was a Christmas miracle in itself that the nursing home ten minutes' walk from my cottage had space for my 95-year-old Mum. She's actually having the time of her life, with people her own age to talk to, staff on hand when needed, and good food. Hopefully she'll only be there a couple of weeks while my brother gets his tank sorted out, but Mum and I are loving the fact that I can pop in frequently without the need to drive in the dark.

So thank you to Sandra Crook for the photo prompt, and to Rochelle for posting it in the middle of the festivities. See her blog for other stories. https://rochellewisoff.com/

Meanwhile, if you care to scroll down my blog you will find a handful of other seasonal stories I have written over the years and re-posted this morning. They come with my best wishes for a Happy Christmas and a prosperous 2020.

MOVING MUM IN - a story in one hundred words

MOVING MUM IN

“It’s a lovely room, dear.” Judy’s lack of enthusiasm was palpable.

Penny took her hand. “What’s wrong, Mum? I thought you were happy to be moving in with us, and you can’t live alone any longer.”

“Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. It feels like a step nearer the grave.”

Penny put a gentle arm round Judy’s shoulder and turned her towards the window. “See that sky? Sunset isn’t the end of the day – it’s just the beginning of evening. Now let’s have a cup of tea while we decide where to hang your pictures.”

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Roger Bultot's photo made me think of other kinds of sunsets and, as my own Mum will shortly be moving in with my brother, this story almost wrote itself.

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/ from whence you can follow the link to read other sunset stories.

FELIZ DIA DE MADRE!

  Today is Mothers' Day in Tenerife, which I can't help thinking is quite appropriate only a few days after Labour Day.

In honour of the occasion I have copied onto my POEMS page (on the right) a poem I wrote when my own children were small, more years ago than I care to remember.

This photograph was the only studio portrait my own mother ever had taken, probably for the benefit of her parents before she left Australia with my father and me to live in England.






Two boys and another girl later, she was still smiling.

Here we all are in 1961 - I'm the moody teenager on the left!

Now Mum has twelve grandchildren and eleven great-grandchildren. I took this photo on Mothers' Day in England in March this year - doesn't she look great?

HAPPY MOTHERS' DAY (again) MUM XX