Mum's Birthday

Now, on Friday my Mum was 70. She did not want to be 70. I said, there's not much one can do about the march of time, Mum, but you could look at yourself as being 40 with 30 years added experience. I don't think she was convinced.

So, a couple of months ago I thought, what would Mum like for her birthday? I didn't have to think long because the AWFUL answer was already swimming in my brain, looming like an evil nemesis. I knew what she would like. She would like me and my brother to celebrate her birthday with her AT THE SAME TIME, IN THE SAME ROOM.

As you may be aware, me and my brother do not get along. Never have, never will. We are chalk and cheese (bags I the cheese). There was a blissful year and three weeks at the beginning of my life (of which I remain unaware) where I was unencumbered by a sibling, and then the brother arrived and the following 43 years and 3 months have been a series of arguments, fights and resentments for one reason or another. Well, actually, the last five or six years have been maintained in silent ignorance of each other, and that has suited us both well.

Anyhow, a couple of months ago I telephoned my brother vis a vis Mum's impending birthday. I did not speak to him as he did not answer his phone, so I left a message along the lines of 'as it's Mum's 70th, how would you feel about me booking a restaurant for you and your lot, me and my lot and Mum's mad sisters and taking her out to dinner? Me and Andy will pay. Get back to me if this idea is acceptable to you.'

Four weeks later, he phoned and spoke to Andy. Didn't want to speak to me. Said yes, okay.

So I booked the restaurant. I arranged with our friend Jean to borrow her lovely old Rolls Royce to pick Mum up. We all arrived at the restaurant. And everything was fine. My brother glared at me from the far end of a very long table; I over-compensated my feelings to tell him to 'suck it up, Princess' by being over-jolly and over-smiley. Luckily, my two children and his three children (ranging in ages between 10 and 23) sat between us all and kept a lively conversation going. And I was sat between my aunts so any misbehaviour on my part would have been met with a slap around the back of the legs.

Plus the evening was tinged with the frisson of excitement that Leane could go into labour at any minute as the Baby-Bump Grand-daughter has 'dropped' and could make an appearance any minute now. (In fact, Leane popped to the loo at one point in the evening and I clockwatched. I was thinking, if she's gone for more than 5 minutes, I'm going after her. I am not having my grand-daughter born in a pub toilet to the sounds of the live music band singing 'American Pie.')

And then Mum made a speech along the lines of how it had made her day being able to spend an evening in the company of all the people she loves the most.

Mission accomplished.

The point of today's blog, I suppose, is that me and my brother both managed to get over ourselves for long enough to give Mum a happy birthday. So long as she isn't expecting a huge reconciliation. Not until we're in the flames of Hell will that ever happen. And then we'll be poking each other with pitchforks. Mine will be bigger.

But I want Chris and Heather to know that if ever they fall out and would prefer to live their lives not speaking to each other, then I am more than happy in 26 years'time to endure TWO 70th birthday celebrations rather than one if it makes life easier for them and means they won't choke on their soup, lamb shank and double chocolate brownies.