My mother is coming to stay... I imagine most girls would look forward to a visit from their mother... having the matriarch coming to help, nurture and assist in the daily running of her only daughters hectic home... but in my experience its more like having Bette Davis coming to stay along with her aloof, spoilt dog... his name is James, he is a little dog but still manages to look down his French nose as us all.
She will arrive very late as always after visiting friends in London... get all the children out of bed regardless of it being a school night, open up a bottle of wine and light a cigar... and then go on to one-by-one criticize all her neighbours from the small village where she lives in France... Im busy this weekend working on my invisible criticism protector shield...
When I was a teenager I was tall and skinny - straight up and down - she was petite with a womanly figure... wore very expensive clothes and had her Mia Farrow gamine hair cut trimmed fortnightly at Chez Michel... I envied her dainty build, foolishly believing then that men only found pint sized women attractive... She was strong, sharp as a razor and cold as ice... all my friends and boyfriends were scared of her and called her Cruella (some still do)... I was embarrassed about her brusque way, but I find myself now enjoying her attitude to life... Im still scared of her though
nevertheless I'm looking forward to her staying