My Flowery Mother is Remarkable

My mum’s a hippy! She enjoys galloping through grass, running through streams, collecting leaves and sometimes lost animals, she prefers to go shoeless and opts for a summer festival rather than a holiday, the gardens full of clay mushrooms and adopted robins and her favourite snack is raw broccoli.

My Mother’s from Devon, she grew up by the seaside and only moved away when she decided to do her Art teacher training in the glorious town of Reading. There she met father who resembled Mick Jagger… They ended up falling in love, getting married and having me. Sadly I did not inherit my father’s big Mick Jagger lips but instead his over active imagination and his impulsive behaviour.

Anyhow… my Mother and Father both had a passion for creative things. Together they bought a derelict house, did it up and filled it with paintings, garden features, a bizarre mirrored shed and handmade toys for me. We had an allotment and multi-coloured gates… a treat for me was a walk along the river looking at the narrow boats, whilst my mother sang…. Yes she sang in public!

Now when I was very young I thought all this was fabulous! I had such a colourful life and it wasn’t until I reached school that I realised I was different. 

They didn’t use environmentally friendly toilet paper at school and I was introduced to the fish finger and shop bought scrunchies. I of course went to school in my home made replica uniform, labels sewn into my socks and a packed lunch full of fish filled pita bread and garden picked cherries. 

Every day I was picked up by my Mother/Father and our dogs, we would walk along the river back home and my Mother would sing. In the summer I was allowed to skip home and in the winter snow I was pulled on a homemade sledge by my mother who wore a multi-coloured ski suit… we had no desire for a car.

It really wasn’t until I realised other children were holidaying in Spain and Disney land etc, and I was holidaying at the world of music and dance festival, held in a field… 20 minutes away from my house that I became aware of their alternative ways… or when my school friends were being taken to Mac Donalds or going to the cinema whilst I was being taught how to juggle or walk on stilts in my garden.

I became actually quite sorrowful at school… childhood bullies would tease me about my lack of ‘cool stuff’ or about my dad having long hair. I was taught to remain quiet if any confrontation came my way, to walk away and think of something nice… but the kids at school just ridiculed me for being so quiet and I often got referred to as the girl with no tongue.

I had a few close friends, one who had hair she could sit on like me and her father wore a cowboy hat and had long hair, our fathers were friends so I would say I felt lucky to have her in my year. I had another friend who I loved to pieces, she was a tom boy and without her I would have been pretty lost. Then I had another friend… the only one I’m actually still friends with, she had a bob which I was desperately jealous of, her mum and dad seemed so normal to me and I was always so envious of her shiny new shoes and packed lunch full of ‘normal’ food.

So the years went past, lots of stuff happened… my father moved into the shed in our garden where he meditated and got lost in his own world of jimmy Hendrix, tapestry and joss sticks. 

He slowly became more and more distant to us and finally moved out when I was 13, he wanted to build his own life on the river with his dog and promised to buy me a boat to make up for my loss... sadly I never saw that boat.

My Mother carried on as any mother would, teaching me everything I know today… how to spot the red labels from at least 4 metres away in Waitrose, how to rise above those who put you down, that it’s easier to run on the grass without shoes on… and how to treat a bee sting effectively if you were to get stung whilst running without shoes on.

I realise now how silly I was to feel jealous of those who appeared to have a ‘normal’ life, that really MacDonalds isn’t actually that nice after all and that staying quiet and thinking of a happy place maybe completely mental to some but perhaps it saved me from becoming an angry person.

Now that I have made my own little girl I have to begin the journey all over again, which is exciting! And I can honestly say that my daughter will have to endure a bit of juggling in the garden, a lot of arts and crafts and maybe even some public singing! 

So I guess the sayings true… you do become your Mother… (Apart from the environmentally friendly toilet paper bit and I will always wear a bra!) Plus i'm sure the parents of any school bullies will get a good telling off from my Husband...

But overall I’d say I’ve definitely inherited the hippy gene… after all who needs to have ‘normal’ material things when ‘with our love we could save the world’ go George Harrison!

Thanks Mum.