Motherisms: The Great Escape …

Posted On February 14, 2016 By jadeangelesfitton In Blog, Motherisms /

I know. It’s Valentine’s Day, I’m so sorry. It is now as inevitable as needing the loo eventually. There is no escape from its cellophane-wrapped clutches. BUT, don’t worry if you don’t have someone to say something nice to you, or someone to buy you a fake pearl/bad watch/silk boxers/teddybear. Remember you always have your friends and family, who love you. Why not say something nice to them, as well as your beloved? Why not use today to be really nice and loving to everyone in your life instead of hoping for a bunch of roses and some chocolates rich enough to fill the hole.

These are all the nice things mum and I have been saying to each other over the last few months …..

I walk in to mum’s flat, she’s moving house and boxes are everywhere in preparation for the move. As I come into the kitchen I see her bent over and wrestling with some very thick masking tape in her mouth …

Me: What are you doing …?

Mum: It’s Chinese New Year, you can’t use scissors.

Me: Oh …

Mum: Yes. Bit of shame we’re moving today but there we go …

I want an animal. I have wanted one for 10 years. The quest continues …

Me: We have to get a dog. Or any sort of pet, but really, specifically a dog. They lower heart disease by 78%.

Mum: Yes I know they do darling but I can’t have one now anyway.

Me: I’ve started stroking them on the street now, just to get a fix.

Mum: No, I do Hatha yoga. Much cleaner.

Mum’s playing a CD in the car, I haven’t heard it since our first house. Turns out neither mum …

Me: Who is this? We used to play this all the time. I love him

Mum: You know, I can’t remember …

Mum ejects the CD so we can look (we’re stationary, don’t worry beackseaters) …

Mum: Bruce Coben

I’ve read it, that’s not what it said. Mum must have terrible eyesight, poor old woman, she can’t read anymore …

Me: Bruce COCKBURN

Mum: COBURN, it’s pronounced CO-BURN. Cockburn …. Jesus.

Mum’s moved in to a new place that has, shall we say, the ‘capacity’ for an older person. This means a lovely walk-in power-shower and a strange array cords dangling from the ceiling, neither of us are sure of their purpose. I am bored, so I reach for one to see what will happen …

Mum: Don’t pull that! God knows what it does.

I don’t. But examine it suspiciously.

Mum: We’ll spray them all silver …

Me: No, gold remember, for warmth.

Mum: Yes good. I’ll just say my daughter is a very famous artist and got carried away. Do apologise.

Mum’s talking about something I’ve written. She is getting carried away …

Mum: You could channel the spirit of the late Brian Sewell … very underestimated.

Me: I feel I’ve done underestimated.

Mum is putting on some makeup, she looks infinitely more presentable than I do, but is not happy with the results …

“Oh god. This is it. What Shakespeare said: sans teeth, sans eyes … sans bloody everything.”

Mum is on the phone to her friend. They’re talking about the recent engagement between Jerry Hall and babe-magnet Rupert Murdoch. Mum appears to have some interesting theories on the union …

Mum: I think he’s a reptile. I think she’ll come into their room on their wedding night and he’ll be there, sitting in a big chair, a huge reptile with his lizard claws, waiting …

There’s a pause …

Mum: Yeah I’d do it for £10 billion.

We’re discussing our new-found saintliness ….

Mum: I’ve lost my capacity to drink large amounts of wine

Me: I’ve lost the desire to.

Mum: Yes the desire to. Like port though …

Me: Me too. Lots.

Mum: Got to keep away from that, too much and it’ll make you fat … and give you gout.

Me: Noted.

It’s a few months ago now and Mum’s on the phone to my godfather. They’re talking about the presidential election (not in depth). Mum is struggling to remember who the “cool, old guy” is. I can’t help but offer some assistance …

Me: Bernie Sanders.

Mum: Jade’s telling me it’s Bernie Sanders. Apparently she keeps a note of my political preferences.

Me: No, I’m not keeping note. I just know who he is.

Mum starts making a variety of childish faces at me in response.

It’s Christmas and we’re all watching Downton Abbey – mum and I are used to chatting through TV shows like this. Today, we’re not allowed, because it turns out we aren’t as entertaining. Mum is struggling, and just can’t keep her mouth shut. The butler has come down to give the well-to-doers some news …

American Lady: Where’s Lady Edith?

Mum: Tripwire, me lady.

Mum has a love-hate relationship with The Archers. I just have mild disdain (but affection for the theme tune). It is on, as it is at 7pm every night of our lives …

Mum: Come on!!!

Archers: I think I need a cup of tea …

Mum: Well go and have one!!!

Archers: Just cleaning up the workshop …

Mum: Oh, for crying out loud. I hoped Rachel would stay in New Zealand.

Archers: These cows, when I look at them …

Me: … I get aroused.

Archers: They’re like family.

Mum: Yes. Great. Another bloody homily of cows! Get on with it. Let’s have a murder for once!

We’re settling down to some well-deserved television:

Mum: Ah now this is Bear Grylls who’s fallen in love with a lunatic …

I laugh, knowingly …

Me: It’s Ben Fogle and Rich Hall ….

I realize 45 minutes later that, it is indeed Ben Fogle, but it’s not Rich Hall, it is a mad man who lives in a swamp.

Mum is looking through the Style magazine in the papers, which I now loath. It’s turned into Mizz. But anyway …

Mum: I do wish these girls would learn to cover up one day.

Me: They will soon, I told you, Dolce and Gabanna have started making hijabs.

Mum: Oh…

Me: I might get one, a hijab. As an act of rebellion …

Mum: Mmm … I won’t discourage this, you’ve always looked great in a veil.

Mum’s complaining about the youth of today, as usual. I agree with her but like to pick holes, for picking holes sake …

Mum: Smart phone, dumb people.

Me: And there’s you begging me for my smart phone.

Mum: Well you can fuck your fucking smart phone.

Mum is talking about the cold draft that comes into flat. Apparently this has something to do with squirrels …

“Now you see, squirrels have an extra layer of fat to get them through the winter … the little bastards.”

We are reconvening mid-week and discussing anything interesting we have come across. Mum is first …

Mum: There’s an article in The Times about teenage feminist boys …

Me: I’ve seen it. I’ve never seen so much bullshit in all my life, sorry. I don’t believe the buggers. The title and pull quotes were enough.

Mum: One must be aware of the bullshit.

Me: Yeah, I’m aware of it, I’m just not willing to engage in 6 pages of it .

Mum: Yes no, fair enough ….I wasn’t either.

It’s the Archers again ….

Archers: Can I share something with you?

Archers: What?

Me: Pull my finger …

Mum: Oh don’t be so ridiculous jade. Shush now.

A pause …

Archers: There’s something I want to do …

Mum: Suck your dick.

Me: Mum!!!!!

Mum: You wait …

(She’s a little graphic, but as usual, correct.)

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Motherisms: The Return

Posted On December 14, 2015 By jadeangelesfitton In Motherisms /

It’s been a while, too long I know some believe, but sometimes life doesn’t give you much amusing ammunition. Fortunately for everyone we’re emerging out the other side, and mum is firing on all cylinders.

(Excuse half-arsed/mixed up gun/car metaphor). ((Thanks)).

I have discovered people are EATING the cute little ponies that run wild on Dartmoor. I express my distress to mum. This is how our text conversation goes:

Me: They’re selling poor little dartmoor ponies as sausages!! In the times xxx

Mum: Its the only way they will survive. Heard this woman on the farming prog. Meat is meat, horse, cow, whatever. At the moment they go for dog food. Uneconomic for moorland farmers now, they are turning to sheep and cattle which will chang the whole ecology of the moorland. This way they are slaughtered close to home rather than being trucked miles to be slaughtered for dog food. Im all for it!! xxxx

Everyone knows I’m squeamish/pathetic and predominantly vegetarian. What mum’s forgotten is I also have a tendency to fall asleep on the sofa. So when I fail to react to mum’s practical nature I receive …

Mum: Oh shit! have .I shocked you.? This phome only does very basic punctuation. Xxx

(As if good punctuation and grammar might soften the blow). It’s only 12hrs later she receives the reassuringly idiotic:

Me: Oh no!! I fell asleep! Only just got that. Well, maybe I will start a pony sanctuary, divert all the sausage ponies in to my field xxx

Mum: Yes.Ok darling xxxx

Mum likes to vocalise when she’s bought a lottery ticket, as if voicing its possession somehow increases our numbers’ chances …

“Well I bought a lottery ticket for Saturday as it’s over 20 million, I only do them now if they’re over 20 million – though I’m thinking I might get scratch cards, where the disappointments more immediate.”

A ‘Sun Life’ life insurance advert is on television and they’re kindly offering a free pen, just for enquiring ….

Sun Life: And you’ll receive a welcome gift ….

Mum: When you’re dead.

Mum is talking about a boy she used to babysit who’s cut his long hair ….

“He’s much happier since he’s out of this Jesus faze. He used to sit there under this veil of misery.”

We’ve just watched Lady in the Van and are talking about the Ascension at the end ….

Mum: A ‘beam-up’ doesn’t seem too likely …

Me (always searching for the positive): Well, who knows …

Mum (change of tune): I do. We shed our bodies and our spirit goes on to something else, then we get to start again and become one with the fucking universe, man.

Me: Ok! Cool.

Mum has been learning about Kim Kardashian and Kanye West – I assume through the Daily Mail she flicks through in Sainsbury’s but refuses to buy…

Mum: That woman with the fat bottom and her husband who’s designed a line of absolutely horrible beige things …

Me: Yes. What? I try not to think about them …

Mum: Well, she’s pregnant again and has been squeezed into this latex dress-thing. It’s absolutely comical!

A very accurate afterthought comes to mum …

Mum: He’s very up himself isn’t he, the husband.

Me: Yeah. I think it’s sort of beyond that …

We’re watching Judge Judy, I have no problem with this but mum seems to think she needs to make an excuse ….

Mum: Judge Judy is better than the news …

Me: The news makes me nervous.

Mum: Me too, I can’t watch the news. I read the papers but the news makes me anxious. It’s designed to make you anxious; if you’re anxious, you’re conservative.

Inspired by The Simpsons I buy some pink florescent donuts and bring them back to the car. I can see mum’s face contorting in horror as I approach. I get in …

Mum: Oh my god no!!! Darling what have you done?! I’m not even sure I want to share the car with them ….

Mum has been telling me that her old doctor, Dr Beaven, once told her that if someone dies you should go out and tell the bees. I have, coincidentally, mentioned a bee in passing, in one of my poems. Mum is reading the poem …

Mum: You’ve stolen my bee line! We’re like Shelley and Keats!

Me: Just like Shelley and Keats.

(In case of future lawsuits: I didn’t steal her bee line, I just used the word bee.)

We’re watching Have I Got News For You and are learning Germany sent a Saint a license fee bill. (She died in 774) …

Mum: Well, I wont take the water bills too seriously any more.

Me: I’d have them sent ‘Care Of’ St Jude if I were you.

We’re watching Judge Judy again. There is a robust woman, very pretty, with burnt copper hair and a complexion I can only dream about, mum feels equally bitter …

“I’d die for skin and hair like that … she’s probably related to Henry VIII …. they’re about the same size.”

I’m reading a newspaper out loud …

Me: Stress is on the rise, is this news?

Mum: Of course not. Who’s surprised? All these people do is just sit on the sofa watching other people with perfect lives, eating ice cream.

Me: Where as we watch Judge Judy and Police Interceptors and eat brown rice and vegetables …

Mum: Exactly.

We’re talking about where mum will go when she moves out of the beloved little ‘garret’ in January …

Me: Maybe I’ll put you in an old peoples home ..

Mum(with utmost sincerity): You put me in an old peoples home, I make sure they throw me out!

We’ve just had people simulate some shagging in a perfume advert, now we’re watching people shagging again in some drama thing …

“Sex used to be fun when I was young, everyone kept quiet, it was furtive and secret; now it’s like having a bowl of cornflakes. So boring.”

I’ve finally done something relatively sensible, that someone incredibly sensible advised I did. I’m reading out an email in response to my sensible thing to mum …

Mum: Doesn’t give much away does it?

Me: Think that’s called ‘expectation management’ …

Mum: Yes. Right … That’s what I have to start doing.

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Mothers Day Motherisms Special: Featuring Death, Diginitas and Gladiator ….

Posted On March 15, 2015 By jadeangelesfitton In Blog, Motherisms /

It’s Mothers Day! Yes mum, Dignitas hasn’t taken you yet. So let’s quickly get out some more of your weirdness while we can, before they come and wheel you away x

I’m up in London and on the phone to mum. I have what I consider to be very important, official, business, adult meetings. I have spent 20 minutes telling mum how important and grown up I am. She says goodbye and signs off …

“Have fun at your little meetings ….”

Mum is talking about death, dignitas and dementia, again. Her holy trinity …
Mum: Now, seriously …. will you tell me if I ever go mad?
Me: I do.

We’re watching Gogglebox, Gladiators on, it’s the really poignant bit where he’s dying and dreaming of getting back to his dead wife and son. He’s slowly walking through the fields to them; spiritual, moving music is playing. I’m welling up …
Mum: The farmer will be absolutely furious with him! Striding through all that wheat …
Moments later the old couple are being very sweet together, “I’ll always come back to you June.” I don’t cry at TV in front of people, but we are both sobbing. I am sobbing secretly.

Mum’s re-decorating the house for it to be sold. We finally have a new fridge, and it’s black. Mum thinks it’s very snazzy. I actually think it’s quite snazzy too.
Mum: Now I’ve got the Fridge I don’t really care where I live now. I could quite happily live in the car with the fridge.
Me: I’d just live in the fridge.

We’re in the car listening to the radio, mum starts repeating, sounding like Hyacinth Bouquet …
Mum: Slow digestive tract, I love that. Sloooooow digestive tract.
Me: Yeah. Wow. That’s really awesome mum.

It’s the same programme just moments later …
Mum: Statins I want some statins everyone has statins, I’m feeling a bit left out if I’m honest. Jocq has statins, Nikki has them – where’s my bloody statins! I pay my taxes!

Mum’s talking about living with Picasso …
“I believe Picasso was like a Monet, incredible from a distance but …. to those up close to it, just a bit of a mess.”

Mum is inspecting Kim Kardashian in the paper …
Mum: She’s deformed herself! That bottom has been inflated to the point where is an actual deformity now. She’s a very strange looking creature.
Me: I think she is a lizard person. I think most of them are. And I think we’re all stupid for looking at them. They should be ignored like the pricks driving around in Porsches.

Mum’s reading about a pig brothel in America. We find out after it’s a joke. But to be honest, I’m pretty sure it’s inspired by a true story. Anyway … 
Mum: Pig brothels, well, there you go. That’s America for you!
Me: Yeah, that’s pretty much all they’ve got to offer I think. That’s why I’m going …

Jeremy Clarkson’s been suspended and I’m sorry Guardian readers, we’re pretty saddened by it … I’ll be honest. I find Clarkson hilarious – this does not mean I think he is the best guy on the planet, but that’s not his purpose. He’s never claimed to be Mother Teresa ….

Mum: I don’t care if it’s not cool, I love top gear, I love Jeremy Clarkson. Everything else is so bloody boring and bland. He does most of this stuff to wind people up, because nowadays it’s so bloody easy. Everyone constantly taking offence.
Me: I think everyone’s just turning in to this pathetic sort of amorphic blob that moans a lot from its sofa and is constantly taking offence via twitter or facebook because they’re too lazy to take offence anywhere else and they’re too stupid to think of an original thought.
There’s a pause. Mum’s got nothing more to say. It’s not often I get to be opinionated, most people find it “annoying,” so I seize this opportunity …
Me: Offence is the zeitgeist now and it means every thing’s turning in to the One Show. … Maybe Clarkson could blow them all up. That’d really wind them up.

Aaaaand we’re back to Dignitas. She knows when to do this. When I’m trapped in a vehicle moving at high speed. When there’s no escape …
Mum: I want to be able to say “ok that’s enough now. I’m bored of this. Going to another level.”
Me: Ok, mum. I got it.
Mum: Because I don’t believe death’s the end of everything, I don’t necessarily believe in after life but there’s something going on.
Me: You reckon the fabric of space time is up to something?
Mum: Yeah, something very fishy is going on up there …

Love you. Stick at it mum. There’s plenty of time for Dignitas, we have many more snazzy fridges to live in before then x x x

Summer Motherisms …..

Posted On August 28, 2014 By jadeangelesfitton In Blog, Motherisms /

Here is a long overdue sprinkling of words I have heard my mother say over the summer, may they get you through the last of it ….

Mum is off to Ireland for a wedding, she is on the phone to my godfather, I overhear part of the conversation …

“Are you bringing your hairdryer? ….. Please do …. Good, so it’s not a flea pit then …”

Mum is reading me the news of the century, a bust up between a bearded Irish man and a lady on the Great British Bake Off. She begins …

“Bearded Irish man and … well, quite frankly a bearded woman … “

This one’s for computer nerds, mum wants to put all our family videos together in one space … in computer land …

Mum: Someone said I should put all those videos on a jpeg.

Me: I don’t think they said jpeg …

I then go to mock her but realize I’ve temporarily forgotten what a memory stick is called.

Mums on the phone to someone else talking about a lunch …

“Yes, well, Jade said I’d have fun but I have such a palsied view on mankind.”

I am completing my nocturnal routine and eating an entire packet of Jaffa Cakes …

Mum: You should have some porridge.

Me: YOU should have some porridge.

Mum looks at me aghast.

Mum: I DID have my porridge! I have my porridge every day!

I’m chopping Vegetables …

Mum: I’m thinking about becoming a nun, seriously.

Me: Me too, seriously.

Mum: But a proper nun, not one of these ones that walk about in denim habits and crocs.

Me: Would solve our accommodation problems.

Mum: Exactly ….

There’s a pause …

Mum: Or prison …

Me: Who’s to say we don’t have options.

Some prat is prattling on about Facebook on the television, mum talks over him …

“Facebook and X – Box to keep them quiet. Just like what the Romans said, “Bread and circuses to keep them quiet.”

We’re watching the tennis …

“One thing I really like about Murray is he doesn’t bloody grunt.”

Mum is looking through The Sunday Style …

“There’s too much of this ‘Shoreditch Sheen’ about. I’m very bored of it.

Mum is starting to take a religious view on morbid obesity …

“I don’t mind big or curvy, but when it comes to obesity, well, you’ve got to leave room for the Holy Spirit!”

We’re watching Countryfile or something like that, the presenter calls Yorkshire a “Sexy place” …

“Sexy place?! It’s Yorkshire, for Christ’s sake!”

We’re back watching the tennis, it’s tense. Mums obviously on Murray’s side …

“These guys are mentally there. Nothing rattles them … “

Murray misses a ball …

“… But Murray obviously hasn’t got his third eye in yet.”

We are putting out the recycling, mum is inspecting the packages for erroneous materials when she says ….

“The garbage men are going to be like “someone has a real Jaffa Cake problem here.’”

It’s night, a car backfires in the distance, it sounds a bit like a gun shot …

“Ah the rebels are at it again, re-taking the powerhouse that is Barnstaple.”

Motherisms: Kings Ginger and Crimbo …

Posted On December 30, 2013 By jadeangelesfitton In Blog, Motherisms /

It was a big day for Jesus, it was a big day for everyone, it was certainly a big day for mum. Christmas is upon us again.

I get in to the car the first thing I see is a bottle of empty Witch Hazel stuffed next to the gear stick.

Me: Have you been drinking Witch Hazel?

Mum: Yes I’ve been going mad for it.

Mum’s talking about how tough it was in the old days, again …

Mum: In my day …

Me: You were lucky to be alive.

It’s Christmas Eve Eve and mum’s put on her pyjamas and has decided to stretch out her shoes by putting them over some rather alarming furry, stripy socks and then preceding to cook supper. I am in hysterics …

Mum: What? This is high fashion sweetie, you go round Kate’s she’s always wearing these.

She is continuing to fart about in high heels and furry stripy socks …

Mum: Comfort over all, that’s the thing about going out, one can’t be as comfortable as one would wish.

Me: Thank God.

Mum is behaving like a 4 year old and wants to talk about all the presents that are sitting in front of us, so no one is surprised on Christmas Day.

Me: Mum, please, control yourself.

Mum: Oh I’m ALWAYS controlling myself … damn good thing too.

Mum brings out one of her Christmas jumper options from the wardrobe, it is possibly the first time it’s seen the light of day. She inspects it in the light for a couple of seconds …

“Oh, great. The moths have been at it …. fucking bastards.”

It’s Christmas Eve and back at home with the Twists, there’s no heating, well, mum has refused to turn it up past Arctic, so I have wrapped myself up in a light blue scarf to prevent heat loss from my head. I look a little like Mary, except I imagine Mary did not have blue lips. Mum looks at me and cries out …

“Oh yes, that is great! Get the camera darling, not many people can get away with a veil.”

Mum, out of the (turning) blue ..

Mum: I make very good cakes because I have cold hands.

Me: Good?

We’ve just had Christmas eve supper and we want some chocolates, as usual, there’s none in the house.

Mum: Sugar is the devil.

Me: Which is why it’s best enjoyed at Christmas.

Mum: Yes, exactly. Why do you think it turns up at all these religious festivals, it’s no coincidence.

It’s Christmas Day and we’re watching some carols, a man is vigorously conducting the choir, and next to me, so is mum …

Me: Thank goodness they’ve got you here conducting …

Mum: Oh don’t be so silly.

We’re on the way to our friends for lunch, there is a rather excited woman singing some of the most painful gospel I’ve ever heard ..

Mum (to the radio): Yes, ok very good dear …

There is a climactic screeching warble about Jesus …

Mum: Good God! What is she on?! I want some.

Me: Christ. I don’t.

We arrive at Appledore and see a strange wire-y statue of an angel …

Mum: Oh look … A deconstructed angel!

Me: I thought you were talking about me then …

Mum: It’s not always about you darling.

It’s present opening time and our friends little girl has opened another present revolving around One Direction, mum screams out ..

“Oh Honey! This is riches beyond the dreams of avarice!”

‘Twister Rave’ has been given as a present, we are all discussing whether or not we can play Twister, mum interjects …

“I can play poker.”

I gave my mum a bottle of Kings Ginger, which is pretty lethal stuff, fortunately I only gave her a tiny bottle, but the whole lot went as soon as we got back home. Then mum went on Facebook, and instead of spreading good cheer, has spread disaster, regardless of this I hear her shout …

Mum: I am the bard of the internet!

Me: You are the comment monster.

Mum: Here I come ….. Oh no. I’ve made another serious error here. Oh well. I say so little everyone loves it when I do.

I can hear mum on the phone to a friend …

“Oh darling no, you just do NOT wear diamonds in the day time, so vulgar.”

We’re watching Poirot …

Me: What the hell’s going on?

Mum: I don’t know but it’s all so stylish I don’t care.

I love you mum, best Christmas Ever x x x

Motherisms: Impending Doom/Christmas …

Posted On November 24, 2013 By jadeangelesfitton In Blog, Motherisms / 2 Comments

It’s been a period of review for me according to the stars, who always give me the most reliable life advice, and what better place to end that period of review than down in Devon, with mum, who’s always ready to give a review ….

Mum’s on the phone ..

“How is Crystal Meth or whatever her name is?”

We are going to go and have a look in the charity shops …

Mum: It’s the most fun you can have with your clothes on.

Me: Ew.

Mum is looking in the mirror …

“Strange, the older you get, the more you can see your parents in you, I can see both my parents but I can’t see me …. The wonders of old age!”

Mum has a fabulous Austin Reed fake fur coat which means that she makes a massive display of being very hot whenever we go inside anywhere, much like a 2 year old would. We’re back in the car and it’s back to the coat ….

“Who needs a flat? I could live in this coat in the car …”

There’s an advert for some Morrisons version of Baileys …

Advert: Some drinks you just know will be popular at Christmas …

Mum: Yeah, any…

Mum has just showed me a funny video of a little dog in booties on her ancient computer, she turns to the even more decrepit television with verve, remote in hand …

Mum: Now! Back to Hitler, look at me multi tasking with all my machines ..

Me: Very impressive …

An innocent smoothie advert comes on telling you to buy a smoothie to help the aged, mum mutters ….

“Buy an old person a bottle of gin, they’ll be much happier.”

Mum’s talking about how she turned down being in a documentary, refuses to write an autobiography, but still plans on being very rich in her old age …

“I remember Dave Gilmore saying all we have to do is stay alive and we’ll make a fortune … I’m still alive … still waiting ….”

There’s an advert on where everyone’s putting decorations on their Christmas trees, mum does of course have something to say on the subject …

“Fathers always lose it at the point, they want to take absolute control but they’ve drunk too much and then the children get over excited, someone ends up in tears … it’s never how it’s supposed to be.”

The Hitler documentary is talking about how Germany wanted a hero, mum retorts …

“Heroes relieve people of their responsibility.”

We go outside ….

Mum: Am I wearing too much make up?

Me: No

Mum: You never can tell in that flat, the light’s so bad you can come out looking like the whore of Babylon.

We’re back on charity shops …

Mum: do you want to go to the cat charity shop?

Me: Not really …

Mum: No I went in there the other day, I didn’t find anything but mad people.

We are in Sainsburys, mum is chatting to a cashier who’s worked there for nearly 20 years, he’s talking about his next holiday …

Man: Yeah we’re going to go to Tenerife next year ..

Mum: Oh no! Oh not Tenerife, darling, really.

The guy looks a little shocked.

Me: Don’t worry, she’s just too old.

Everybody laughs. We walk off.

Me: Mum you can’t say that to people.

Mum: Yes I can. Tenerife’s hideous, it’s no secret.

We’ve just bought some nice Christmas cards …

Mum: I’m only going to do a few Christmas cards this year, just for cousins … and Aunty Mardy, if she’s still alive …..

A man fails to indicate and darts in front of us ….

Mum: BLOODY IDIOT!

She takes a quick look at the vista…

Mum: See that’s what I love about it here, so nice and quiet.

I call someone a douche bag, mum very innocently responds …

“I’ve never met anyone who’s seen a douchebag.”

I proceed to end up in a fit of hysterics in the bathroom after trying to suppress my laughter for too long.

We have got up at the crack of dawn and after packing and getting changed still have about 2 hours before we need to leave to catch the bus back to London. To pass the time …

Me: A documentary about fractals or The Illuminati?

Mum: Let’s have the illuminati they’re always good for a laugh …

We’re in the car on the way back to the bus, it’s a cold morning …

“See, the other day I put anti-freeze in, like a wise virgin.”

Just like a wise virgin x

Posted On October 7, 2013 By jadeangelesfitton In Blog, Motherisms /

Last week I went down to see mother, it had been a tough fashion week and I needed to feel looked after. I’m twenty seven, sorry mum …

I have had a Norse Myths and Legends CD stuck in my computer for quite sometime now, it means it makes a whirring, crunching sound every time I turn it on … Mum looks at me quite alarmed and says ….

“Is it making cheese?!”

Mum wants to watch Breaking Bad on my Netflix account, I find it remarkable that she knows what either of these things are, and that she is now light years ahead of me in tv series. I tell her she can use my Netflix account ..

Mum: But hang on ….. won’t they get suspicious?

Me: Who mum? The C.I.A?

Mum: Well, yes, with your track record …

Me: Yeah, I can see the headlines now … ‘DAUGHTER LETS MOTHER USE NETFLIX ACCOUNT.’ It’ll be the ruin of our family name.

Mum: Your family name, maybe …

I’m trying to help mum watch bloody Breaking Bad on my Netflix before I go for a swim, after many attempts at trying to mentor her through it, and watching her click on the wrong thing over and over again, she finally bursts out …

“Oh for God’s sake! I wish I was a bloody tree.”

Mum is talking about her nightly audiobook routine of listening to Jeremy Irons reading Brideshead Revisited …

“He’s just brilliant, half a page and I’m fast asleep, I do worry though, if I ever met Jeremy irons I would just slip in to a coma.”

We are reminiscing about the building of the house we lost, we get on to the subject of ‘Builders Tea’ …

Mum: I remember when I gave Morley Airs his first cup of tea with us, he spat it straight back out and said “Whats that maid?!” “It’s Earl grey, Morley.” “It may be, but I don’t like it.”

Me: Good story.

Mum: Oh Fuck off.

Mum has been informed there’s a sex worker in South Molton, she has also been informed you can find her online, mum finds this fascinating …

Mum: Harriet says there’s a prostitute in South Molton, I’m going to google it.

Me: I look forward to you having that on your search history.

I go back to watching University Challenge …. minutes later …

Mum: P. r. o. s … prostitutes South Molton …. google search “south Molton escorts …” obviously they’ve interpreted ‘prostitutes’ in the broadest sense …. ah here we go … South Molton prossies …

Me: You’re going on it?

Mum: Yeah …

She starts reading out the names and descriptions …

Mum: Curvy and sensual … OH MY GOD! Sweet Jesus …..

I’m now laughing …

Mum: “Fuck my arse” ….. OH charming!! Get it off! Turn it off!

I’m now in hysterics …

Mum: Oh how horrible. South Molton used to have a lovely old prossie next to the chip shop, where if you have thruppence, you could go upstairs.

Me: Ah, the good old days, when you could get a little extra with your potatoes …

My old school has decided to put Latin back on the GCSE syllabus, I am jolly pissed off about this as I am currently trying to teach myself …

Mum: Anything sounds clever in Latin

Me: Why do you think I’m learning it.

Mum: Ut is ‘in order to’ … I’m going to get the car keys “ut” go to Tescos.

Me: Wow, that sounded really smart ….

A poem I’ve written is doing rather well, mum reads it …

Mum: It really is very good, completely strange, though very, very good … but then you are at a slightly oblique angle to reality all the time ..

Me: I’ll take that as a compliment, I’ve decided to take everything as a compliment. It’s doing wonders for my self esteem.

Mum: Good for you darling.

It’s the Barnstaple fair, we drive through late in the afternoon as they’re finishing setting everything up with lots of barriers and metal fences, though there’s no one there yet ….

“Oh yes, hold back that crowd! It’ll be an evening of riotous activity, they’ll be staggering about without their shoes on before 11pm.”

Mum’s trying to lure me in to watching Montalbano …

Me: No mum. No way. It such a waste of my brain.

Mum: But it’s young Montalbano, young Montalbano’s very tasty.

Me: No. Still no. Just because he’s not fat and bald doesn’t mean he wont give me brain rot.

Mum: Quite right, bare that in mind in real life too, darling.

Mum is making supper …

Mum: Getting very creative here …

Me: Please don’t get too creative.

There’s an advert for Viking cruises on television …

Mum: That’s what I should be doing with some grey miserable bastard. Circling the planet catching e-coli.
Me: I think that sounds fabulous.
Mum: It’s a plague ship, darling.

The fireworks are going off for Barnstaple fair …

“Hezbollah are closing in on North Devon Leisure Centre …”

I’m flicking through the tv channels, I get very excited at the amount of history programmes on ….

Me: Fire of London then The Battle of Trafalgar …That’s our saturday night!
Mum: Sounds good, though no Montalbano?
Me: No, not even the young one.

It’s Sunday and we’re parking the car, I’m reading whether we have to pay ….

Me: Monday to Sunday … that’s everyday!

Mum: Every minute of your bloody life. Cooking meth is definitely the way forward.

It’s a bit later and we’re cooking supper, I am watching an announcement from UN Secretary General Ban ki-Moon to my old school as I hear …

“Oh fuck! It’s the cinnamon not Tumeric!!”

A few minutes later ….

Mum: Here we have vegan cinnamon and mushroom ratatouille …

Me: Mmmm…yum.

We are on the subject of life skills, I am trying to persuade mum to do something creative with her life, this was her response …

Mum: One day I see myself becoming a drug dealer … Working with little kiddies …

Me: Jesus Christ mum, it’s like living with Frankie Boyle.

AI had a phone call with mum a couple of months ago, for the few days prior to it I noticed mum was sending me fewer and fewer kisses in her texts, I had been wracking my brains trying to figure out what I could have done wrong (without actually asking), then ….

Mum: You’ll have to call me back darling I haven’t got much credit … That’s why I haven’t been sending many kisses.

Me: What? Mum, you don’t pay per kiss.

Mum: Oh!

Dear Mother, the cinnamon and mushroom ratatouille was delicious, I don’t know how you made it work, but you did. x x x

Motherisms: Mum Gone Wild …

Posted On July 25, 2013 By jadeangelesfitton In Blog, Motherisms, Uncategorized /

It has been a fair few moons since our last dose of ‘Motherisms’ but you’ll be relieved to know little has changed …

We are talking about going to space mum pontificates for a second and then says …

“Hmmm … constipation is rife, I don’t fancy it myself.”

We sit down looking out at the horizon, there are is a wind farm in the distance …

Mum: The mafia have shares in wind farms

Me: No the don’t

Mum: They do.

We are talking about some friends of mum’s …

Mum: Do you remember her house opposite Victoria Park?

Me: No, I don’t think so …

Mum: You were very young

There’s a pause

Mum: Yes, very young … you may not have been born.

We are having supper at mums’ friends and sitting outside in the garden, the past few night I have noticed mum furiously glugging glasses of water before she goes to bed, it is now explained …

Mum: I’ve started drinking a glass of water every night before I got to bed, to prevent a heart attack.

Barnaby: You know the woman who gave that advice died of a heart attack?

Mum: Oh, did she? Well, it prevents you from having a heart attack while asleep … wake up for your heart attack!

We are flicking through the channels, there’s nothing much on, we pass a programme about the Hebrides and rest on ‘Knocked Up’, we decide against it and go back to the programme about the Hebrides …

“No, come on, this has to be the best thing on. No more jocks jumping around like prats, I want to watch the squirrels.”

As part of the evenings ritual we are listening to The Archers as I cook supper. Some woman says something ….

“Oh I LOATHE this woman, odious hag ….. I hate them all now but I just can’t stop listening, I may explode if I do”.

We are sitting and looking at Fremmington Quay, it is incredibly beautiful, but mum has, as she has insisted on doing every day since I arrived, started telling me to sign on at the doctors …

Me: ENOUGH MUM! No more. Or I will not go to the doctors ever again.

Mum huffs and walks over to the water.

Mum: I’m going to kill myself now.

Me: Great, I think it’ll do you the world of good.

Shortly afterwards I get up and walk over to the water in my nice new shoes ..

Mum: Going to kill yourself?

Me: If it makes it better.

Mum: Leave the shoes, darling.

Mum and I are having an evening picnic at the quay, we watch a few people on boats arrive at the little island opposite, it’s sunset, it all looks rather picturesque.

“Oh, how cool of them. They’re probably going to have a BBQ …. we should introduce ourselves, they’ll be so pleased to see us.”

Mum rarely allows me to take a photo of the front of her head so I have become quite adept at taking arty photos of the back of her … I am doing this as she turns around …

“Jesus Christ! Don’t take a photo of my backside in these trousers! They’re for comfort not elegance!”

I have been swimming, mum is picking me up, I ask her to bring a banana, my whole life we have called them “nanas” I text her and ask her for one, in doing so I realize I have never seen “nana” written before but am sure mum will get it …

Mum: I couldn’t possibly think what you were talking about, I thought you meant Nana, like in Peter Pan, I thought you were trying to be funny.

Me: That’s not very funny.

Mum: No, exactly what I thought.

We are reminiscing about my Grandmother …

“Granny Ruth bought you a dolly once, it did something weird like waved its arms and legs, completely freaked you out, you went berserk, totally hysterical, like only you can. So we called it Voodoo Dolly and put it on the stairs to scare you away while we drank g&ts, proved very useful for many years.”

We move on to how I used to spend my childhood (I am feral) …

Mum: These kids these days, I do pity them. You used to just potter around, find a beetle, look at the beetle, sometimes get bitten by the beetle, put the beetle down, then find a toad and go in the paddling pool and play with your toads.

Me: You make me sound rather odd.

Mum: You are rather.

A very jolly golden retriever bumbles over to us, the owner is watching, mum is doing her best fake laugh and then whispers to the dog …

“Ohhhh yes good boy, fuck off.”

We are watching some people pass us by …

“Now, wouldn’t all these people look better in Victorian dress. The boy with the broken leg especially.”

Mum on accidentally getting a perm …

“I remember when I got a perm, I thought it would look like Irene’s and I’d have nice long waves. No. I got a proper bloody perm. I have often felt suicidal but never so much as when I realized that perm would take 3 years to grow out. You did of course start screaming when you first saw it.”

We are pulling out of the car park and mum stops and looks out of the window , there are a big queue of cars building up behind us.

Me: Errrr … mum, we’re kind of in the way …

Mum: Oh for god’s sake, I’m admiring nature, nowadays if you stop and look at a fucking sunset you’re a psycho.

It’s my last day and we are having coffee back at the quay. There is a little girl of about 8 talking to her little brother, the little brother is in a bad mood, the little girl offers to go and get her money to buy him something, he is being stroppy and says no. All of a sudden mum says to the little boy …

Me: Oi! Be nice, don’t be so rude!

The poor boy looks quite alarmed but now obediently follows his little sister.

Me: Mum, you can’t do that, you can’t shout at other people’s children, especially not when I’m gone.

Mum: I can. Look, he’s behaving now, it’s very nice of his mother to offer to get some money for him.

Me: His MOTHER? Mum, she’s like 8. That’s his sister.

Mum: Well, even nicer then.

Mum is talking about how all the little things I’m doing will eventually add up, she’s trying to be philosophical but we’re a little tipsy.

Mum: You see darling, all your little bits of writing, all your little short films … it’s like mustard …

Me: Is it? Is it like mustard?

Mum: No, no. Mushrooms. It’s like mushrooms, it’ll grow …

I’m still laughing …

Mum: Oh whatever.

Mum is finally allowing me to take a picture of her face …

Mum: I shall look into the distance

Me: Mother, every single photo you are in charge of, is of one of us looking in to the distance. We have over-done wistful, just look at me, wistfully if you must.

Motherisms: Olympic Special …

Posted On August 13, 2012 By jadeangelesfitton In Blog, Motherisms /

It’s early August and there’s a party feeling in the air … the Olympics has arrived in London and down in Devon, mum’s about to have her hip replaced. But before my mother is turned into a cyborg I went down to spend some time with her.

We are with my Godmother in her hotel room, as we wait for her to get ready for supper we watch some athletes come out ….

Mum: Ah! More beautiful boys, just in time!
Me: That’s a girl mum.

It’s the next evening and we have just had another lovely supper with my godmothers, mum is obviously chuffed with her unwavering group of friends and says …

“You see darling, the older you get, the less you have to put up with people who bore the shit out of you. And I’m bloody old”.

Mum on the subject of Wayne Rooneys “geriatric prostitutes” …

“Rooney’d go a bundle on me”.

We’re having supper with a few friends and have drunk quite a lot of wine. I can’t quite remember why I was stereotyping Italians and shouting “I gotta getta ma pasta”, but I’m afraid I was …

Mum, outraged: What?!
I repeat: I gotta getta ma pasta?
Mum: Oh! Thank God. I thought you said, “I gotta getta ma pants down”.

Hungarian wins gold in gymnastics …

Mum: Oh fantastic! Ex-communist state you see … he’s hungry!
Me: Mmm …
Mum: He’ll buy a huge house and a bullet proof Landrover now.
Me: Lovely.
Mum: He’ll need one …

Mum goes down a friends drive and tuts ….

“Someone’s brambles need a trim”.

Mother is on the phone to my Godfather, this is what I hear …

“Oh right, so you’re both trollying about starkers?”
“Are there any other nudists?”
“Aren’t they cold?”
“Are they attractive?”
“No, didn’t think so. Very selfish activity”.

Mum is admiring another Olympian with a rather fantastic profile, if you like a big ol’ nose.

“He’ll get fat though … big meal, big car, many women”.

In order to succeed in my desired career, I have been told I need to be veiner, or at least brush my hair … I have heeded this advice and am preening myself in the mirror …

Mum: What are you doing?

Me: Working on my vanity …

Mum: Don’t work too hard.

Watching the men’s 100 meters heats, there is a minute Japanese guy in with herds of gigantic adonises. As it turns out, the little lad’s pretty speedy …

“Look at the Japanese guy go! GO!! GO, YOU BEAUTIFUL FAIRY!!”

We are watching Morse, mum has her operation on the brain …

“Old people are a lot like children, but at the same time, you know with children it might get better, with old people it will only get worse … now, turn it up, there’s bound to be a body before we leave”.

Mo Farah wins the 10,000 meters … as we watch a number of close ups mum says …

“Beautifully shaped head …. Just look at those cheek bones!”

Usain Bolt wins the 100m, mum admires his physique as we watch him run again in very slow motion…

“Fucking poetry in motion, man.”

Bolt is shaking hands with the crowd, a mascot is chasing him arond the track brandishing a miniature golden mascot at him …

Me: Run!
Mum: What the hell is that?!
Me: A mascot.
Mum: Oh my God! Get rid of it Bolt! Knock it out!

We are driving around the moors trying to find the riding stables, but out of the few signs that there are, none of them indicate towards our destination. We have gone around in a giant circle twice already, it’s only 9am ….

Mum: Imagine how exciting it would have been when they turned all the signs around to dupe the Germans!

An american athlete has just missed out on an opportunity to run in the finals, distraught, he is herded towards an interviewer, we do not approve …

Mum: It’s all this reality tv. This sentimentalising of everything. They want to see you cry. Cry for the public you poor bastard, otherwise we’re not interested!

The weather comes on ….

Weather man: Wednesday it will dry up, brighten up, heat up.
Mum: Just in time for me to go to hospital. Great!

We are in the car on the way to the train station, mum starts indicating left, but keeps going straight on …

Me: Are you going left?
Mum: No.
Me: That’ll dupe the Germans.
Mum: Exactly.

I’m sorry I didn’t get to watch the rest of the Olympics with you mum. I’m also sorry I’m not with you for the operation tomorrow but I am, as is everyone I know, sending you all my love and can’t wait to see you marching along the moors again x x x

Still from Peter Whitehead’s ‘Let’s All Make Love In London’

Motherisms Feat. Vajazzling …

Posted On April 1, 2012 By jadeangelesfitton In Blog, Motherisms /

Having had the sensation recently that London had worn away my funny bone, I decided it was time to head down to Devon for the weekend for some regeneration. This is in the wake of my mother discovering life’s daily grind has worn away her hip bone, and will require some sort of robotic replacement.

The following is a summary of the sunny Sunday afternoon …..

We are at the beach getting a coffee, sitting and watching the masses. Mother spots a baby wearing a bib and says sanctimoniously and only half joking …

“You never wore your bib in public”.

We are sitting upon the cliff edge reading the Sunday papers, mother remarks, I assume in response to me donning a rather nice pair of floral shorts …

“After my hip replacement I’ll have to vajazzle my crutches for the beach”.

I wash my hands with some cheap, indescribably pungent peach handwash, I feel my mother should experience the stench …

Me: Smell that ..

Mum: Good god! That’s incredibly strong. It’s terrible!

Me: I believe it is “atomic peach”.

We are going past a house with some particularly appalling net curtains. Mum looks at them and says …

“If I were prime minister, I’d charge them, like a new window tax, they can pay for their hideous paranoia”.

Mum points at, from what I can see, is just a hedge …

“That’s where I got our chainsaw”.

I am a saint, and have recently given up sugar. Having eaten two tones of Turkish Delight in 6 months, my teeth had mysteriously started to hurt. I want to buy some coconut water, to further purify my soul …

Me: I’d like to see if they’ve got some coconut water.

Mum: I know why you want that, it’s the sugar.

Me: It is not the sugar! It’s the isotonics.

Mum: Whatever. I don’t care. Drink what you want. Some people drink their own urine.

We are driving back from the beach. Mum obviously has vajazzling on the brain …

Mum: What is vajazzling, I hear a lot about people getting vajazzled.

Me: I don’t want to talk about it.

Mum: Is it just covering yourself in Sworovski crystals?

Me: Um … Yes.

Mum is reading a restaurant review by AA Gil aloud …

“With virginal rice … that could only have been exciting if we’d shoved it up our arses. NO! NOSES! Sorry, noses”.

Mother is reading another review by AA Gil, and applauding him for his genius (because he says the same stuff she does …)

Mum: Ahhh but I shouldn’t like to meet him. You should never meet your heroes. They’re always a disappointment …. No, not always.

Me: Who wasn’t?

Mum: Leonard Cohen. Funniest man alive. Totally, totally cool.

I have given mum some food made by The Grocery, which has she devoured with relish.

Mum: That place is seriously good. You should open a branch on the beach in Devon and manage it.

Me: I can’t imagine anything worse.

Mum: No, quite right. Get someone else to manage it. We’ll just sit on the beach and bitch about people.

A man on the radio says “He refused to give officials information”.

Me: I thought he said “he refused to give a fish-horse information”.

Mum: What a magnificent creature that would be.

Me: A bit like a sea horse.

I am admiring the David Hockney postcard I sent to mother. I then spot someone else has sent her one, my Godfather …

Me: Oh, I see Jocq sent you a David Hockney as well.

Mum: Everyone’s sending me David Hockneys. I am having to fend them off!

I look at the two postcards for a minute and then remark.

Me: Mine’s bigger.

Mum is talking about her hip replacement again …

Mum: I’m having a heart transplant.

I laugh …

Mum: A hip transplant, whatever is it, I have to have a new body part.

Me: Mumbot

Mum: Yes, robomum. I might ask them to give me a pair of those spring legs while they’re at it. You know, those blades? I wouldn’t need a car, I could just leap to the beach. They should just give all old people those blades, let them spring in to the sunset.

Mum has a “new” car. It is shooting along the motorway …

Me: Yes, this is good. It doesn’t sound like it’s struggling going up hill, which the other one did.

Mum: Well, that one had an enormous crack in the exhaust pipe. You can get it fixed.

Me: Yeah, I would assume most people do.

We are driving to the train station, we don’t know how to use the radio in the “new” car …

Mum: Let’s play ‘Spot the Next Dead Animal’ to alleviate the boredom.

Me: Ok, I guess pheasant.

Mum: I guess badger.

There’s nothing for about three minutes.

Me: There aren’t any dead animals.

Mum: Hold tight, The Killing Fields are coming up …

I lose interest and possibly start inspecting myself in the wing-mirror …

Mum: AH! DEAD ANIMAL!

Me: It was a pheasant.

Mum: It was a pigeon.

Me: Pheasant.

Mum: Well, I saw it first.

We pass some hideous wind turbines, mum says wistfully …

“We should vajazzle the pylons. What a wonderful word, vajazzle. What does it mean? Where does it originate? The Vajazzled Pylons of North Devon …. hmmm … PHEASANT!”

There is some rubbish on the side of the road. Mum is horrified.

“Where is your head at to just throw your rubbish out of the window. There should be patrols to shoot them. I’d man one. Get out of it, go home and take your trans-fat packaging with you”.

We are listening to the constant robotic apologies for the delayed train that, it turned out, was because of a bomb scare in Dawlish.

Me: Why’s it delayed? Because it’s sunny?

Mum: Sun on the line darling.

Mum is quoting a line as we wait patiently …

Mum: “If you want someone you don’t have to talk to, bring me Lady Jane”…

Me: Lady Jane Grey? The Queen?

Mum: No, this is Bob Dylan. Lady Jane …

Me: So, she was still queen, she was queen for nine days.

Mum: Yes, but Lady Jane is also a term for marijuana.

Mum: Oh. Yeah.

I don’t want to leave the car and go on the platform because I am seated and basking in the warm glow of the setting sun …

Me: But I have this lovely radiance here.

I look to mum, who has no sun in the driver’s seat.

Mum: Yes, you see why I want to move? I have been cast to the shadows and it’s no fun.

I have found a ‘To Do List for 2012’ I responsibly/optimistically drafted at the beginning of the year and am reading it to mother. It contains … Read more, get showreel cut, more writing, more money, relearn piano, try stand up, learn the basics of Latin ….

Mum: Will you add “Give yourself a break, just calm the fuck down, love mum”.

Mother, my funny bone is fully regenerated. I couldn’t bare to tell you, partly because I couldn’t bring myself to utter it and partly because you just throwing it around was amusing me greatly but, the definition of “vajazalling” is …

“To give the female genitals a sparkly makeover with crystals so as to enhance their appearance.”

I think you’d struggle with the wind turbines ….