At the age of 26, I moved out of my parents home in the comfortable village of Newbury Park, Essex to move down Souf with my then boyfriend. There me and Freddy lived in disfunctional bliss until 4 years later when I woke up one day and realized that I am not this guys mother and he cannot be saved, neither will he change and went back home. I went back home the week before my 30th birthday around the time of my grandmother passing. My parents travelled to Ghana to bury her and my mum stayed on for about 6 months. About 6 months after that I left London for Accra.
What’s the point in this brief history. My mother is back in Accra and she is obviously staying with me. The trouble is, she is that battle-axe mother who always has something to say, always criticizing, and when you are need sympathy she will be the first one to tell you ‘I told you so, what you crying for’. Don’t get me wrong, I love her dearly, but we are two people who get on well with each other when she is on the other side of town and I go and get a once a week dosage of her.
Right now I am just the mortgage payer, and part time chauffer, she has rearranged my furniture and set up in my bedroom, the spare room is being used currently as a walk-in closet it seems. She criticizes my hair, the food I eat, the clothes I wear ‘are you going out like that’ is one of her very famous lines.
I can no longer leave my office during the day for anything as she has my car, but hey she carried me for 9 months so what can I say.
I could probably take all of it, but for the constant pimping me out. Yes, pimping me out. We are three girls, not married and so she is asking every guy with a pulse if he is single because her over the hill retard daughter needs a husband (not in so many words but she might as well have).
The most recent was at my cousins wedding. I met a former colleague, introduce him to my mum and she asks ‘are you married’ he says yes, ‘can’t you find someone for my daughter’. Like if the ground could have swallowed me up there, I wished it woudld.
That’s my mum. This is a daily thing, and this is what I have to deal with.
Since she got here, I wake up 4.45am instead of my usual 7am, I leave the house by 5.30am go outside and have a sneaky fag (still haven’t been able to quit and even moreso since she got here although at the age of 34 I still hide and have a fag behind the bikesheds as if I was back at school, although she knows but as she hasn’t caught me, what can she say). I am in the office by 6.30am, I am out of the office 11 or 12 hours later, I sit at my local spot and have a couple of fags and a drink a gin and tonic before going home.
She will be here until May 2012 she says.
I’m sure you will be hearing a lot about her between now and May 2012.