As I sit here watching the snowfall from my super king size bed with heated under-blanket and goose-down duvet, I am merrily eating lemon cheesecake Häagan Dazs (I embrace the cold. I luxuriate in the cold. I fight cold with more cold) and reflecting on the day's events.
[eating a mouthful of lemony-creamy goodness]….mmmmmm
Today is my mumsy's 50th birthday. The big 5-0. Cinquante. Fünfzig. Cincuenta. However it is said, that is a relatively high number, and is certainly approaching infinity.
[eating a mouthful of sweet biscuit scrum]….mmmmmm
OK, so it is not that old. Hell, Noah lived to be 950, Methuselah lived to 969 and Tom Cruise has got to be getting close to that.
[digging in the half-empty tub to find a lump of biscuit]…. mmmmmm... biscuit
Strangely, this is the same number of years to the very day that the crisp-munching Gary Lineker has walked the earth. Thankfully, while Mr. Lineker OBE was playing tennis, or some other ball-related shenanigans, mumsy was raising her family… and especially me (whoop-whoop).
[licking the lemon-sauce-covered spoon]…. mmmmmm
So here is to you mother of mine. You have always been there for me when I got sick, argued a point that I had, antagonised my siblings, built highly-sophisticated death-trap "bases", argued a point that I did not agree with, needed a confidante and drank all the squash hidden in the tumble-dryer. Thanks for being a great mum, a patient friend and an example of youth. I love you.
[dipping the spoon back into the tub… what the freak… finished?!?… Becky you greedy oinker!!]
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