Sunday Blog 144 – 14th July 2024
By the time I was born, the sixth child in eight years (no multiples), my mother’s hair was grey. I mean, that makes sense right? Wouldn’t such a profusion of children dim the shine of most people’s hair? She’d started late for her generation – 29 when she married in 1957 and 38 by the time she had me in 1965.
I can still remember my dawning realisation that she had, in fact, existed before I was born. Why, the very idea! What was she doing all that time? I was filled with self-absorbed resentment at her living on this earth forty years without me.
This was around about the time we all gathered around our television to watch a show called Stars of the Future. Sort of like American Idol but with very very bad haircuts and cheap stage sets. And probably not quite so much polish and talent, if I’m honest. They often featured the Shirley Halliday dancers who were decidedly racy (this video may amuse you to watch.)
Anyhoo, one day I was shadowing Mum as she was doing what she almost always did daily between 1959 and 1989 – laundry. I was too small to actually help her, I was just tagging along. She has a beautiful singing voice and was belting out a tune as she pegged up the sheets. She taught us all to sing in harmony, a fiendishly clever thing to when you five daughters slogging over the washing up. We can’t argue when we’re singing.
So impressed was I with her vocal abilities that, grey hair and plain house dress notwithstanding, I exclaimed, “Mum, you should be on Stars of the Future.”
You know that laugh, when someone doesn’t mean to laugh so loud, but they just can’t help themselves? She fought to catch her breath between the next guffaw. The thought of a grey-haired matron in her housedress and apron, neck deep in laundry being The Next Big Thing was the funniest thing she’d heard all day.