Today, the middle Sunday in Lent, is Mothering Sunday in Britain. In previous times, servants went home on this day to visit their mothers, and people went to worship in their “Mother Church”. Nowadays, due to creeping Americanisation and commercialisation (I suppose) it’s now mostly referred to as Mother’s Day. Due to Michael having had a dreadful stomach flu all week, I was informed by the Dafter that “due to technical difficulties” it would have to be postponed a bit this year.
Personally, I was just so happy to sleep in my own bed for the first night all week (having kept to the sofabed in order to stay well), and to have Michael better, that was enough of a celebration for me. (Thank you to everyone who posted good wishes – they were very effective.) And look what we awoke to!
Not only was the world sparkling white, with episodes of dramatic blizzard conditions, but when I went down to the kitchen lo and behold there were flowers and chocolates and a card to wish me a good Mother’s Day! This had been accomplished by Michael in a very cunning “bid for fresh air” when first released from quarantine yesterday, and in between three viewings of the flat yesterday afternoon. I was so surprised!
I got out for a walk this afternoon and went into the city centre. As you know, I love Union Terrace Gardens, and I think it looks lovely in the snow. You can see the snowflakes blowing fairly clearly in this photo:
Today is also my mother’s 83rd birthday! So a happy Mothering Sunday to mothers everywhere, and a Happy Birthday to my Mama.