Look Out For Me

Once a month I make a four hundred mile round trip to visit my mum. She lives in a little suburb of Manchester. It used to be one of those quiet areas with houses dotted about, a handful of people queuing at the local grocery store for quarter of cooked ham and a loaf of bread. Now, in our twenty-first century madness, it has become a selection of housing estates. Another expanding waistline for the ever growing population. My mum lives in a lovely house, four bedrooms mainly to accommodate her visiting family. But it is a corner plot. Whilst sitting in the lounge one would feel quite at home should a goldfish swim by. The huge window which looks onto the front drive, directly off the public footpath makes it feel rather like being in a Pyrex bowl, having passers by gorping at your every move. Mum keeps the blinds tilted most of the time which prevents nosey neighbours from looking in, however, it also prevents her from looking out; a favoured past time as a nosey neighbour.

My mum is surrounded by houses. They are very nice houses, with supportive neighbours. She has an appointment with a double glazing salesman this coming week. Her idea is to install glass which will enable her to see out but prevent people from seeing in. A bit like one of those two- way mirrors. Imagine the things you could get up to in your own home, with the curtains (or blinds in my mums case) left open. I can't imagine it adding value to the house but it has been upsetting her for some time now. I think that is what becomes of being a nosey neighbour. You get found out. Of course where I live, the only nosey neighbours we are likely to encounter are of the four legged woolly variety. The pony peers in occasionally, but that is only if her head is facing in the window direction during the few times she looks up from mowing the lawn. So it is not necessary to close our shutters, we do not have curtains in the lounge for I just don't see the point. Our large bathroom window is of transparent glass and as far as I am aware, I have never been spotted in my Sunday best.

It goes without saying that I thoroughly enjoy going to see my mum. We always have a good natter, we have lots to talk about. I find it so much easier to talk to my mum face to face rather than on the phone. She tends to phone me at the most awkward of times and I tend to phone her when she is out. Saturday's are usually spent at the shops. It has to be one of the best past times to go shopping with my mum. I would never pick something up if I wasn't prepared to buy it myself but strangely enough, my purse never seems to see the light of day. Sometimes I refuse to let her spoil me. I can not remember when I did that, but I have done it. But, as my brother and sister will vouch, we spoil mum too. If we can't spoil her with gifts as much as she does for us, we always give plenty of love. It has been hard for her since she 'lost' my dad, as are her words. She listens to me when I talk to her about his spirit but she doesn't always understand, which is her choice. She has accepted that life goes on. It has to for our own sanity. And she has found a lovely man of whom she loves and spends a lot of her time with. But during last week, her thoughts were with my dad. She mourned for him. She missed him. I hope Amy and me helped her to remember the good times we all shared, not forgetting the good times we all share now.

Mum looked after Amy on Saturday night while I went out for a Chinese banquet with my friend, Ali. It was one of those catch up nights, where two people who haven't seen each other for months have so much to say that it is impossible to get it all in. Ali is so different to me. We have little in common. But each time we are together, we agree on so much. I have promised Ali I will dedicate a blog to her. A promise of which I intend to keep. A blog of which I will take great care in composing. She does not take any shit. Her mouth is bigger than the Mersey Tunnel, as she will admit, but she is my oldest and most honourable friend. A very special person in my life.

Our return journey brought us north along the A1. Fields in our view, sheep and cattle grazing, oblivious to the horrors which could lay before them. As my farm hoved into view, my expression went into automatic pilot, a smile painted firmly while listening to Amy cheer as she noticed Heaven upon its hill. "We're home, mum," she yelled. There's no where like it.