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Yellow Socks.

Looking hard at her son, Mrs Bails said in her best complaining voice, “Oh no! You are not going to put on those nasty yellow socks that my Sister gave you for Christmas are you?” “Mother the socks were a present from your own Sister, she would be very disapointed if I did not wear them, you know what she is like.” I looked in the mirror to see if my hair was in order when again that complaining voice, “You are not leaving my house without a tie.” “All Gentlemen wear a tie.”

I pushed open the front door and literally ran to get away from my own Mothers voice. The nag, nag all day long was unbearable. She is my Mother but must she always be complaining. Life could be so sweet if only she would leave me alone to decide what to wear and more important where to go and whom to mix with. After all a man must be able to choose his own friends and especially his girl friends who one day might possibly become his wife.

Not my Mother she tries to choose what friends I go out with, what girls are welcome in our house. My Mother has a preference for those quiet little mice like woman. Those that agree with her. A few compliments on my Mothers cooking and the girl can as far as my Mother is concerned name the wedding day. To say that I have had enough of this penned in life would be one large underestimation. I am twenty two and want to lead my own life, to make my own decisions and yes my own mistakes. At least they will be my mistakes. I have not yet met a girl thatI want to share my life with. When I do I will not take her home to be under the scrutiny of what I privately call my Dragon.

My Boss has offered me a job ten miles away. The position entails a house with garden. I jumped at the idea of moving away from my complaining Mother. I asked all fo the workers in the Office not to give my Mother any details of my move, my new address and my telephone number. Many had met my Mother and it was like a conspiracy to keep any information away from what one of the office lads called an old Bat.

I have been in my new position for ten years now, I am married with two lovely children next week, we, my family and I are going to see my Mother. With my lovely wife and my two children both on their best behaviour we went to see my Mother.

The reception was Icy, You are not coming back here to live not with this woman and I do not want kids in my house I had enough when you lived here. I do not want to be rude but why do you not go back to where you have come from. You are not welcome here, not you or this woman and especially those two kids.

My Mother's voice had not altered one bit she was still the bad tempred woman that she always had been. I have not seen her since that day that my small family and I went to visit her. She had made it quite clear that neither I nor my small family were welcome in her home.

One day reading the local newspaper I saw my Mother's name in the obituary notices. My Mother had passed on to a I hope much better world than this one. Hopefully ther would be nothing to complain of in the next world andperhaps she will have a Son that will obey her every whim. It was the letter from my Mother's Solicitor telling me of her death and of her last will and testament.

Her house and the sum of fifty thousand pounds were to be divided equally between myself my wife and my children. There was one condition attached to this last will and testament. The condition was that I would swear never to wear Yellow Socks again as long as I live. It seems that my Mother thought that it was the yellow socks that had turned me away from her house and home.