(Jacqueline)

We just heard Dusty sing the words ‘every day can be my magic carpet ride’. Those words reminded me of this  quote I’d always liked, from the play Look Back in Anger where the main character describes his first love: 

“Just to be with her was an adventure. Even to sit on a bus with her was like setting out with Ulysses.” 

Mum had a natural ability to make the mundane magical and funny. Her sense of humour, sometimes dry, sometimes contagiously schoolgirlish, sometimes slapstick, her appreciation of the absurd – most times so deadpan you’d miss it if you hadn’t notice the ironic sparkle in her eyes – her intelligence and wit made magic out of any situation. 

There were daily instances of this. And – on the subject of bus rides – I loved her company so much that wherever we went I treasured and enjoyed the journey there and back as much as, maybe even more than, the reason for the outing. 

A coach trip to the lavender fields with mum, Sara-Jane and our Auntie Jean was considered by all of us to be one of our favourite days, but it’s actually the coach ride sitting next to mum and laughing so happily, with the other two in front but heads turned our way, that I remember specifically. (As an aside I might mention here that a one-liner I’d hear fairly regularly from Mum as I perched on the edge of the settee looking my usual anxious self was: “Sit back… You’ll get a longer ride.”)

We took the three boys to Dunstable Downs one day and a bit of a gale blew up. Actually it was freezing and the car park was steadily emptying. Determined to have a good time Mum found a ball of brown wool in the car and several carrier bags and soon the boys were having the best time flying the most effective kites in the world. 

An ice cream van was sitting it all out and I went and bought five cones. When I got back to the car with my hands full the wind so strong that Mum couldn’t push the door open to receive them and, while she was winding down the window, a sudden gust blew all the ice cream clean off leaving me with dry cones... and painful earache. You can imagine how hysterical we found that. We got the wool again and quickly fashioned a couple of makeshift ear muffs for me. So warm and attractive that when the boys got in they wanted a pair each too. So much laughter 'from such inadequate material'!

I read this the other day:

All of us need places where we can

simply name what is true for us.

And when that happens

in an atmosphere

of non-judgement

something in us heals.

Every single time.

This is what Mum gave everyone, a space to be themselves and not be judged. More than that, she never disappointed in her responses. She always managed to say exactly what you’d hope someone would say. That is a rare gift and a wonderful thing. I could say anything, and she’d be perfect. Often I didn’t even need to say anything because she’d just look at me and say ‘I know’ and the smile in her eyes if it was happy, or the concern and love in her eyes if it was sad, was the only answer I needed. Because I KNEW she knew. And I know no one else ever will.

I just want to throw in a poem here about green eyes! Mum would feel cheated, I think, if I didn't dedicate some D.H. Lawrence to her!

The dawn was apple-green,

The sky was green wine held up in the sun,

The moon was a golden petal between.

She opened her eyes, and green

They shone, clear like flowers undone

For the first time, now for the first time seen.

Finally, a Salinger quote. I have tweaked it to make it more appropriate for Mum. It needs no other words...

She wasn't doing a

thing that I could

see, except

standing there

at her front door,

waving,

holding the

universe together.

_______________________________

JIMMY: (Quietly) Just to be with her was an adventure. Even to sit on the top of a bus with her was like setting out with Ulysses.

John Osborne, Look Back in Anger