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A Message to my Mum.

The alarm clock struck seven, Time to get out of my warm bed. Wash, dress, cook breakfast and go off to a busy day's work in the office. Not of my choice but the choice of the Labour Exchange. I earned enough money to live a comfortable life. I am able to save something for later on in life. If there is such a thing. What is the point I ask myself in saving what might be a complete disaster. The banks could go broke. The country could be bankrupt. What then?All monies would be irrevocably lost and that would be fatal for someone with a temperament like mine.

I still have the habits that my Mother drilled into me. Four sets of underwear. Four pairs of matching socks. One suit kept for high days and holidays. Two pairs of shoes kept highly polished these articles are a must for every decent young man. Good thing you cannot see what has become of my clothing Mum. The shoes have not been cleaned in years. The socks are mixed together I cannot find time to sort them out in matching pairs. The underwear has a few holes you never did show me how to iron a shirt or any other article of clothing. You too are to blame for my lazy ways Mother. You were too strict.

Now I ask myself what is the use of cleaning and polishing. Once a week is enough in my opinion. I do keep the bathroom clean. I like to know that the toilet is clean. The shower I wash down after use no dirt there. By the way Mum I have taught myself to use that monster of a washing machine that you left me. I do not run about in dirty clothes as you once or twice prophesied would happen. No Mum I did not marry. You knocked that all out of my head with your nagging attitude to every girlfriends that I brought home.

To make this report complete Mum I go to the Pub nearly every evening except Thursday. Thursday I go to the working mens club and have a skin full of beer with my mates. Yes Mum my mates all of those lazy lazy lay abouts that I was forbidden to bring home. You hated all of my mates , my girl friends, you wanted me all to yourself. How many time did I lie to you. No I did not love you. I hated your guts. You tried to mould me into your own likeness. Hard luck Mum it did not come off I am very pleased to say. People tell me that I am more like my Dad every day. You know Mum I still think that you drove him into an early grave with your keeping him on a short rope every human being must know and taste freedom even if it is only for a few hours. It keeps the soul alive Mum, it keeps the soul alive.