ONE of the good things about going on holiday ‘en famille’ is that it gives my sister and I a great chance to compare notes about ‘The Mother’. This most recently trip was particularly good for that as we allocated ourselves the job of picking up the daily bread from the local bakery…a five minute walk which quite often included a pit stop for a morning cafe au lait and a ‘little tincture’ to quote the late great Brenda Harris!

“Where other than France can you have a brandy for breakfast?” Asked my sister as we enjoyed a quite moment in the town square.

“If we pooled our resources we could buy a chateau and live here all the time,” she added flicking through the French equivalent of Rightmove.

“If we pooled our resources and lived her permanently there wouldn’t be enough brandy in France to keep us sane,” I replied.

“The Mother is exhausting. Doesn’t she ever sit down and relax,” said my sister.

“Of course she doesn’t. If she did that she wouldn’t be able to start every phone conversation with ‘I’m knackered’!” I replied.

“I’m glad you get that as well,” said my sister.

“Every night. I ring to tell her something interesting and the conversation always starts with ‘ well I’m knackered’ and a blow by blow account of everything she’s done over the course of the day…which in fairness would wear out a 20 year old!

“She usually ends the conversation by asking if I’ve been busy…by which time I’m too drained to answer!” I replied taking a hearty swig of cognac.

“I can’t believe you made her drive the last hour and a half of the journey down here,” said my sister finishing off the baguette we’d been sent out to buy for lunch.

“In fairness I was exhausted and she was still wide awake and chatting away in the backseat,” I replied defending myself.

“The only time she shut up was when I shouted at her and the housemate for making me take the wrong road when we lost you in the middle of Rouen!”

“I heard you did a u-turn in the middle of the motorway and then blamed them!” smirked my sister.

“It wasn’t the middle of the motorway it was a very quite side street and I only did the same as the chap in front of me…I just misjudged how much bigger our car was. And in my defence I had the housemate telling me to go straight on, The Mother telling me to go right and the brother-in-law on the walkie-talkie telling me to go left! It’s a miracle I didn’t abandon you all and catch a train!”

“I know we laugh about The Mother but there’s not many 80 something-year-olds who can be on the road by 6am, having prepared a picnic for the whole family, drive half way across France and then sort out dinner for everyone. We’re pretty lucky really,” said my sister.

“And that’s it in a nutmeg,” I added, making good use of The Mother’s latest Malapropism!