My mother

If I could sum up my Mum in one word, it would be laughter. Of course, I could also use love, generosity, warmth, welcoming and fun, all of which would sum her up to me, but laughter is the thing I remember most. Her sense of humour was there in her smile and her eyes, and we’d laugh so much over the silliest things. Adding too much rum to our home made rum butter at Christmas, until it was semi-liquid and had to be poured into the dish; garlic bread with so much fresh garlic that your eyes watered when you opened the oven; making up silly songs about nonsense and Dad rolling his eyes heavenwards when yet another strange family saying or in-joke sent us into fits yet again. She laughed over the endless making of her own recipe for macaroni cheese for Kirsty, when it was one of the very few things Kirsty would eat.

Mum loved children, she spent her life looking after them and would teach about all sorts of things in a way that didn’t make it seem like lessons. She loved music and we’d sing along with the radio or the TV, I remember the hours she spent singing nonsense songs and lullabies to me, then to Kirsty too. Babies loved her, she had a knack of making them settle, and her voluntary work at the baby clinic in Oadby was a pleasure to her. She read us stories as children, she spent hours playing games, making dolls’ clothes, and then she did it all over again for her beloved grand-daughter Kirsty who was so precious to her.

I remember also the unflappable way she dealt with the many and varied visitors who arrived, both at Oadby and at Castleton. Wet muddy students, cavers and mining geologists, many from around the globe, often homesick, mostly talking rocks and Mum would welcome them all, feed them, give them tea and coffee and sometimes a place to sleep. Her home would often be strewn with rocks, fossils, maps, bones and goodness knows what else (muddy wetsuits springs to mind) and none of it ever phased her, she just trotted off to the kitchen to make food and drinks for all. I don’t think anyone ever went away from our house hungry, cold or feeling unwelcome.

There are so many happy memories of her, so many things to temper the tears and sadness with the laughter and fun and warmth she gave to everyone. If I could be half the woman my mother was, I’d have really achieved something special.