Tag Archives: mum

Your mum

– Tap the icon. Yes.
– No, not that one. The other one. The one with the camera.
– Have you got it?
– Ok, yes. The camera icon.
– Icon.
– Eye. Con.
– It’s a graphic. An image. A little square. It represents the app.
– Yes.
– Yes, an app.
– An application.
– It’s a little programme inside your phone.
– No.
– No, not like Eastenders.
– A computer programme.
– Yes.
– No, I know you’re not on the computer.
– No, I don’t want you to turn the computer on.

– Have you turned the computer on?
– Mum?
– Mum, turn the computer off.

– Are you looking at your phone now?
– Ok, good.
– Tap the camera icon. The square. The square with an image of a camera in it.
– Got it?
– Have you got it?
– No, a camera. Not a tap.
– No, I know there aren’t any pictures of taps.
– I meant touch. Touch the square with a camera in it.
– Ok. Great.
– Now, I need you to take a photo.
– Take a photo.
– Take…
– Take a…
– What do you mean, “where do you take it from?”
– No I…
– Mum?
– Mum?

– Where did you go?
– The back bedroom? Why?
– Mum, why did you get the big photo album?
– No, I didn’t.
– No. I said, “take a photo.”
– What do you mean, “which one?”
– No, I don’t want you to take a photo from the album.
– Yes, with the phone. You wanted to show me the new carpet.
– Ok. No, I understand
– It’s very complicated, yes.

– No, no, I’m still here.
– Do you have the camera app open?
– On your phone, yes. Does the screen look like a camera.
– No, you’re right. It looks like your table. Yes, that’s right.
– Yes, sorry, I should be clearer.
– So press the button and take the picture.

– Have you taken it?
– Have you?
– I’m not rushing you.

– Have you…
– …ok good.
– Now you need to send it to me.

– No.
– No mum, I know your printer is broken. I know. That’s not…
– Mum…
– Mum…
– Mum. I’ll fix your printer the next time I see you.
– Yes.
– That’s right.
– I need you to email it.
– Yes, like you did with the photo of dad and the bucket of fire.
– Mm. How is he now, by the way?
– Still sore? Well it did go all the way up his thigh, to be fair.
– Yes, yes it was a bit silly.
– I know, yes, he can’t hold it like he used to. You’re right.
– Have you found the email button?
– The arrow. The share arrow. No, not like Robin Hood.
– No, I know it doesn’t say “share” but that’s what it does.
– Ok, have you touched that button?
– The share button. The arrow.

– Good. Ok, now the email button.
– Yes, the one that looks like a letter.
– Write my name.
– No, MY name. Yes. My name.
– No, not “myname”. Type, Peter.
– Ok?
– Ok.
– Now send it.
– Send.
– Press send.
– Yes, send.
– Ok. Got it.

– Yes. Yes, that was easy, wasn’t it.



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Forty Two

The gate squeaked, the gravel shuffled and the letterbox clattered as February 14th’s mail cascaded to the ground.

Mark grabbed his Spider-Man dressing gown and ran from the top of the stairs to the bottom. There he sat, crossed legged on the matt shuffling through the letters like a terrible dining room magician.

“Bill. Bill. Junk. Bill. Ugh. Booorrrrinnnggg” he sighed.

Just as he was giving up, a red envelope caught his eye. Dropping the others, he tore it open and pulled the card from within.

Mark smiled as he finally got dressed, text his mum and set-off to work.


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Today had been such a good day. The big English breakfast with sausages, bacon, eggs and beans followed by a walk amongst the gigantic looming pine trees. A trip to the park – the one with the slide that almost reaches the sky – and ice cream with sweet, sticky strawberry sauce and sprinkles all colours of the rainbow.

But as the slippery string slipped through my fingers I watched in disbelief as my yellow balloon rose into the sky and all that went before it began to fade away.

No matter how slowly it seemed to float upwards I just couldn’t stop it. My eyes followed the winding tail as it whizzed up past black handbags, and whooshed by dangling gold earrings. My heart began to melt into a puddle of tears as I looked away, not wanting to watch it disappear for good and not wanting the others to see my chin begin to wrinkle.

I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. “Mum..” her name not even leaving my lips, “mum!” I tried again and this time it managed to wobble from my mouth. Mum’s face appeared through the crowd and as she leaned down towards mine. Her eyes looked angry at my interruption, she didn’t like it when I stopped her from talking to her friends but as she saw the tears splashing down my cheeks her look began to change. “Darling, what’s up?” she asked. All I could manage in reply was “mum…”

Mum knelt down beside me in the grass, an arm around my back as she tried to wipe away the tears with her other hand. “My ballo…” I began to explain, before stopping short as an arm pushed its way between mum and me; a fist clenched around a single slippery string held tightly right in front of my eyes.

I looked up at the blue sky to see a bright yellow sun being held tightly by a man with a scratchy looking beard. “My balloon!” I shouted. I grabbed the string and ran through the forest of legs yelling “Thank you thank you thank you!” over my shoulder as my balloon chased me away from mum.

Today has been such a good day.


Slippery tail

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