This is a belated post dedicated to my Mother(it was Mother's Day in Ireland on Sunday). This is a rare photo of my parents, as long as I can remember mam runs and hides whenever a camera is pulled from a bag. When at family occasions she is made stand still long enough for a shot she usually can't hide the fear of the lens from her face, so we have very few nice photos of her. This was my father's 60th birthday quite a few years back, with their first granddaughter Eve in dad's arms.
I don't call or visit half as often as I should but she is still as loving when I do remember to pick up the phone. She has an uncanny psychic ability, which all Irish mammies seem to possess, she knows exactly what is wrong by the tone in which I say 'hello'. There is something so wonderful (if a little terrifying) in someone knowing me so well. She always seems to know when I need a bunch of flowers, or a long chat over tea, and never fails to make time for me.
Sometimes I'm foolish enough to think that she is a bit silly, but then a sentence will come out of her mouth that is so truthful and poignant that it's really quite astounding, then she will continue on with her normal natter. She taught me how to sew, to not care what others think, and that loving myself before seeking it anywhere else was the most important gift I could give myself.