There have been a few changes since the last time I ventured along to the Health Club.
The most disconcerting of these involves
the Jacuzzi. There I was, enjoying the warmth and the bubbles after my (not very) strenuous swim when time ran out and all went still. I expected the girl who was in the Jacuzzi with me to press the little button on the side of the pool which would start the
bubbles bubbling again but she just sat there, gazing out at the people still plodding up and down the pool, showing off their best breast-stroke. I waited a while then asked her, somewhat tentatively, if she wanted to set the Jacuzzi off again. Which
is when she pointed out, in the ceiling above my head, a new green light. Apparently we now have to wait until the green light goes off before we can start the bubbles going again. It seems the Jacuzzi needs its rest periods even more than we do.
We sat there for what seemed a long time. Without the bubbles, our legs looked like pasty sausages stretched out in the clear water. It was such a relief when the green light
went off and the bubbles came on, hiding them from view.
The other change is that the building next to the health club, which has been empty ever since it was
erected, now has bright notices outside announcing that a new activity centre is soon to open. According to these notices, we will soon be able to “Climb. Bowl. Play. Eat.” I wonder if it will be open by the time Jack and Hazel come to visit
at half-term? It would be good to have somewhere new to go. I am assuming climbing walls, a bowling alley, soft play and a cafe. Of course, I might have it all wrong.
The Health Club is advertising special free sessions for mothers this coming weekend, in honour of Mother’s Day. Or, as I prefer to call it, Mothering Sunday. I won’t be there because I will be celebrating the day at the home of the
Youngest of the Darling Daughters with as many of the family as can manage to be there. We will be eating at home, on the basis that this will be both cheaper and more relaxed than eating out. Mr B has already bought a massive piece of corner cut topside which
is currently residing in the fridge outside in the garage, in the company of a couple of bottles of J2O, two four-pint cartons of milk (one red top, one green top) and a tub of Anchor butter. Mr B set out for the butcher’s this morning like a Man
on a Mission. There is nothing he likes more than being entrusted with the Buying of the Beef for a Special Occasion.
Yes, Mothering Sunday will, as always, be
a special occasion. Today I have been thinking of mothers, having attended the funeral of a friend’s mother this morning. My friend read a tribute to her mum which was tenderly honest about the ups and downs of their relationship. I came away with
a picture of a brave, feisty woman who brought up three children on her own in the tough world of the East End of London – and who made sure that they were as strong, as brave and as determined as she was.
My dear Mum could be feisty in her own way. Home again after the funeral, I sought out her diaries to read and remember. You can see a couple of new diary entries in Dolly’s Blog by clicking on the link on the left. My Mum wasn’t
argumentative by nature – but that didn’t mean she didn’t care passionately about the world. Her opinions are very much her own and she was always aware that the way she felt inside was sometimes at odds with the mildness of the person other
people saw. The photo accompanying today's blog is of my Mum (bottom right) as a young woman in wartime with her two little sons, her sister in law and niece and her younger sister whom she was caring for since their own mother died of TB. They were
hard days, indeed.
My friend will find this, the first Mothering Sunday without her mother, especially painful. I will be thinking of her, and her sister
and of another friend who lost her mother recently. For everyone whose mother is still with them, make sure you give her a treat. Take her to the Health Club (make sure to tell her about the green light, she might not want her sausagey legs on show);
send her a card; phone her or Skype her; take her out for a meal; or buy a massive piece of British Beef and enjoy a Mothering Sunday Dinner at home like us.
if you can’t be together, because of death or distance, make sure to hug her in your heart.
Wherever she is, she will feel your hug and know that you love