When I was eleven (or possibly eight, it feels like those were the years when I was at my most unbearable), I told my mother we would no longer celebrate Mother’s Day as it was a commercial conspiracy and isn’t that why we didn’t have a dishwasher and wasn’t that the reason she wouldn’t convince my father to join Rotary so that she could be a Rotary-ann. As you can see, I had a broad but unsophisticated understanding of my mother’s politics.

In hindsight, that was a short-sighted decision on my part.

And in hindsight, I can see my mother’s inward grin.

So, Happy Mother’s Day Mum. I’ll think of you while I’m not unwrapping my new dressing gown.