She had already bought and read my column so this was a dig at my memory again. I met her briefly in Llandudno where she was alone and clutching some vouchers for one of the big stores.
"Do I look really old now?" she said pointing to her imaginary wrinkles. "No," I said; she put her arm through mine, "Will you come shopping with me?" "No," I said again. "But it's my birthday," she said, trying and succeeding somewhat in making me feel guilty. I was adamant.
"Sorry, but the answer is still no, birthday or not," I said.
Now you may think me harsh but that's because you don't know my daughter. She is a wonderful woman; warm, funny and brilliant company and I adore her to distraction but she is the worst shopper I have ever met as anyone in the family will readily tell you.
Even Mand, the most patient soul who loves nothing more than a few hours shopping, will make any excuse not to accompany her on a shopping trip.
When she goes through the door of a clothes shop she gets a look on her face that you can only describe as zeal, a look rarely seen other than in the eyes of religious fanatics. She spends hours examining everything from the front door to the back of the store and trying on most of them.
Woolworth's in Conwy - a shop sadly missed - was quite a small store but she could happily spend at least an hour there looking at everything from the pick and mix sweets to the reels of cotton and still come out empty handed.
Mand and I know her modus operandi of old so when she says, "I'm just popping in here for a minute" we go walkabout for an hour doing our own thing before going back to find her still wandering around the same shop totally oblivious of time.
It is a small fault and, as far as I'm concerned, she has no other. She is screamingly funny, a great observer of human nature with all its absurdity and a great mimic.
She'd had the ability to keep the family amused since she was knee high by being so dizzy but she's nobody's fool, sensitive, intuitive and kindness personified.
I was not happy when I found I was having her because it was, at that time, the last thing I needed.
She was born almost three weeks late after twenty-two hours of labour with a mop of black hair and long nails on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
They put her in my arms and I looked down at my tiny baby girl with the smallest nose I'd ever seen and fell in love.
Along with her siblings she brings me nothing but joy and not a day goes by that I don't thank God for the privilege of being their mam.When she goes through the door of a clothes shop she gets a look on her face that you can only describe as zeal
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|Publication:||Daily Post (Liverpool, England)|
|Date:||Jul 25, 2009|
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