Tag Archives: jill ireland

Mother’s Day

31 Mar

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During the summer vacation of 1969 I turned 11. Before I went up to the grammar school, my Mam suggested I was perhaps a bit too old to be playing with my Steiff Rabbit – ‘Bunny’.   I pointed out that all the other kids in the street had ‘Action Men’, and I did not so what was the problem?

This is what the rabbit looked like when my Mum bought him in 1957 when she was expecting me.

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A 1957 vintage Steiff Rabbit in mint condition.

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This is my 61 year old playmate.

As you can see, I had an Action Bunny.

In 1969 my mum had Bunny photographed resplendent in crocheted chain mail, cardboard armour astride his noble steed, a donkey. His Bassinet was made from gold card, the shield likewise, a lance and sword of balsa wood. Don Lagomorpha Quixote. Nothing phased this dude.

Between the ages of 7 and 13,  I didn’t really have much contact with my father (he was working in West Africa so only came back on leave once in a blue moon). When I did see him he did his level best to inject a little of the divine masculine into his two boys. It must have been bloody hard for him as Mam made access to us very difficult.

When he could, Dad would invariably take my brother, Tim and I to the very latest James Bond Movie.

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, is most memorable and formed my blueprint for the ideal woman – Diana Rigg – cool, brainy, brunette.

Goldfinger was another – he bought Tim an amazing Dinky Aston Martin complete with working ejector seat.

Bond “Do you expect me to talk?” Goldfinger “I expect you to die Mr Bond”.

Upon our return from the rare trip with Dad, Mam would reprogram us with this mantra – “I am you mother, your legal guardian AND YOUR FATHER, and don’t you forget it!”

A few years later my Dad remarried, to a lovely young woman called Mollie Moore.  As we are in ‘film star’ mode, just imagine actress Jill Ireland. Fair and sunny (but in this case from Shaftesbury) Mollie gave birth to a very bright baby girl called Abigail.

Dad and his new family came back to live in the UK permanently, which meant I could begin to spend more time with my father, as I grew into a man.

Mollie always made me feel welcome and part of her family, even as her brood grew to three children; Abigail, Nathan and Simon. I gained two more brothers along with a sister.

So what of mother’s day?
Well every mother’s day, my Mother made Tim and I breakfast.
Every other day of the year I made breakfast, did the housework and welcomed Mam home.
I listened to her daily adventures with school pupils and colleagues, worries and financial woes, giving support where I could. I also looked after my younger brother.
That seemed fair to me at the time.
It all seems absurd now.
Mother’s day was 364 days a year for me.
I’m really glad that shit is over.