LAST week, I had a holiday in the sun in Lanzarote with my daughter Ashley. Now I'm back home in our Glasgow flat with husband and Ashley. Back in the old routine.
There is something really annoying about my family when they walk around opening and shutting drawers in my home, yet refusing to tell me what they are actually looking for.
"Tell me what you have lost and I will help!" I cry as yet another cupboa
rd door is slammed shut in frustration.
"Nothing" is the reply.
"Well, you must have lost something as you are going through the house like a noisy burglar! Tell me and I will find it for you."
They simply bang shut the drawers and walk away making angry noises.
The reason husband and daughter refuse to tell me what they are searching for is they hate the fact that I will know where it is. How screwed up is that?
Mothers know stuff other humans don't. It is in my DNA to know where every single item is placed within the home. The noise of my wicker drawer being wrenched open in my bedroom alerts me to the fact Ashley needs black tights, as the drawer they are tucked in makes a specific noise when opened.
"Are you stealing my tights?" I scream.
She runs in looking shocked: "How do you know that stuff? Are you psychic?"
Husband scrambling underneath the sink and pulling every single item out signals he is looking for the plunger, which is now kept on Ashley's bathroom shelf as she regularly blocks up the drain with her woolly hair. Though telling him while he is looking for it is a thankless task.
He refuses to admit that was what he wanted and walks into the bathroom with one yellow rubber glove, looking busy. The plunger will be retrieved another day when I am not around.
When I was on my world travels back in April, I got the angry, defeated voice of my daughter on the Skype computer service finally asking me: "Mum, do you know where the nail clippers are?"
I was sitting in Hong Kong airport on the internet, had the headphones and microphone set up and shouted loudly: "Yes, if you open the double cupboard in the kitchen and look behind the sanitary towels, you will see a clear plastic box – that's where they are. Anything else?"
"Yes," she pleaded. "I can't find the blue thick long socks I wear with my boots and the big pack of black hair grips."
"Socks are rolled up in my bag in the wardrobe and hair grips are in the medicine bag on the window behind my bathroom door!"
I may be rubbish at cleaning my home but am good at memorising where the stuff is hoarded.
Not such a purr-fect pictureLAST week in Lanzarote there were a bunch of tiny wee feral kittens living in an inaccessible balcony in our resort and every day I would lean over and affectionately stare at the kittens, all cuddled up together. Their lovely wee mewing noises made me want to hug them. They stared up at me with baby cat eyes.
So I took some bacon from the breakfast buffet and I tentatively threw it over into their rocky pen. Within seconds the cute wee fluffy kitty cats jumped up, ran towards the meat then started ripping each others faces off and clawing their siblings to near death to eat the bacon. The noise was horrifying.
It all went from adorable kitten heaven to feline massacre in seconds and it was my fault. I had cat killing nightmares for the rest of my stay.
Is now the time to make my mark in the political world?GLASGOW East is up for grabs since the Labour MP, David Marshall, stepped down due to health issues.
I am Shettleston born and bred and can safely say that anyone who steps up to take on that seat has a definite challenge on their hands. The area has unemployment and drug and alcohol problems, but the people of Glasgow East are very up-front and they tell it like it is.
They are tough and determined.
The life expectancy of some areas in Glasgow East End can be as low as 55 years old. That's shocking and needs to be addressed. I may take up politics and put myself up for it. Any backers?
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www.janeygodley.co.ukThe full article contains 760 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
