Things My Mother Taught Me

Dear Friend,

Last month I went to the theatre to see Celia Imrie and Tamsin Greig as the leads in Backstroke at the Donmar in Covent Garden. I have been a fan of these actors for years and so the prospect of seeing them on stage together reminded me of the thrill I felt 22 years ago when I saw Judi Dench and Maggie Smith in David Hare’s The Breath of Life at the Theatre Royal Haymarket. I was in the front row, so close I could see Dench’s spittle as she spoke.

Prior to booking, I had not seen the reviews for Backstroke, which upon reading now, are not wholly positive. The daughter Bo (Tamsin Greig) has to face the prospect of losing her mother Beth (Celia Imrie) when she is admitted to hospital following a stroke. As she tries to deal with respecting her mother’s needs and facing the new challenges in her life, she relives key moments from the past and the sometimes difficult relationship she had with her mother.

I have been impulsive since Mum died. In December, a week after we found her, I booked a last minute ticket for Waiting For Godot starring Ben Whishaw. I slept through the first half, woke for an interval tub of ice cream, then spent the second act feeling trapped in the claustrophobic script of Beckett, my eyes darting from the stage to the Emergency Exit, then back to the actors.

Why are we here? Waiting For Godot. Why are we here? Waiting For Godot. Why am I here? I thought, wishing I had an aisle seat, worrying how Ben Whishaw was too thin.

As I strode away from the theatre, desperate to come home, I said goodbye forever to this play. I have seen it many times in my life and I promised myself, never again will I make you suffer the meaninglessness of it. There is not enough time anymore for Beckett.

I had booked £15 standing seats for Backstroke. On the day when I presented our tickets at the theatre door, the staff member asked, ‘Would you like to sit in the stalls? We have some returns.’

As we took our upgraded seats, Min and I felt like we’d been handed a Christmas present. We were just an arm’s length from the stage, waiting for ‘curtain up’.

Although the play was a little cringy at times (note to the director: never ask a grown women to put on a child’s voice) it was worth it, just to see the actors in the flesh. Of course the mother dies in the end. It was obvious she would from the start. But, and this was where the play really happened, in the final scene, Tamsin Greig delivers a eulogy. We, the audience get pivoted and become the congregation at her mother’s funeral. The eulogy is a list of the things the mother taught her. As Tamsin Greig read out the long list, it grew in resonance. Min and I shook in our seats as the grief rose in us. My throat hurt, I could feel the emotion about to erupt. When Tamsin Greig took her well deserved bow, she looked straight over and gave me a smile which said, ‘I know.’

Yesterday morning, going into Sainsbury’s, I walked into a mass of flowers. ‘Mother’s Day’ was all over the pink signage, the amount of bouquets piled so high, so like a sickly carpet, it reminded me of tributes at a murder scene. I stood there for a moment, catching my breath as people dashed in, the bouquets quickly being lifted out their buckets of water. One man was holding his little girl on his hip. ‘Mummy, mummy, mummy,’ he said, jiggling her about while he directed her to choose which flowers. I cried. I had no idea that this would be such a thing for me.

If you are reading this and missing your mother, then you are not alone today. My advice would be, do not go near the supermarket. Do what you need to do to give yourself comfort. Later, I am going to see The Last Showgirl. I expect there will be a few mothers with their grown up children in the auditorium. I expect I will watch them to work out what their relationships are like and I will have another weep.

If you want to do something which feels like you are keeping her close, then you could write your own list of ‘The Things My Mother Taught Me’.

I did this as an exercise in 15 minutes. And it helps.

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Things My Mother Taught Me

How not to upset people

How to stay calm

How to not transfer a mood

How to be generous with food

How to give an adult a jam sandwich

How to show up

How to ask people how they are

How to speak too much

How to hold court

How to bring humour into a beige situation

How to not say too much

How to not say anything

How to make yourself ill

How to speak to the wrong person

How to demand respect

How to charm a nurse

How to say yes, why not

How to give too much away

How to rescue a dog

How to enjoy A Place in the Sun

How to not desire money

How to be naughty in plain sight

How to know humour will get you everywhere

How to laugh as a response to bad news

How to say leave me alone

How to pay for a meal

How to be interested in foreign places

How to welcome people round for dinner

How to say, I don't think so, softly

How to be patient

How to love a stranger

How to love more deeply

How to wear HRT

How to believe in doctors

How not to ask for help

How to leave my body behind

How to care

How to get someone to work on your behalf

How to think like someone else

How to celebrate the small things

How to dance until you sweat

How to dance without alcohol

How to ride a bike

How to make believe

How to go on stage

How to say, I am proud of you

How to shrug it off

How not to hold grudges

How to enjoy the day

How to be glad to be alive

How to forgive upsetting behaviour

How to keep them close

How to show off

How to feign modesty

How to know what's right

How to do what's right

How to check in

How to mother another

Write soon, write often.

Sending love,

Karen xxx

Me and Mum at a family get together in Rye, some time ago.

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