I do miss going to church in the country on Mothering Sunday, and receiving the tiny posies of daffodils and narcissi, their stems wrapped in damp kitchen roll and tinfoil, and handing them over to my mother. I may be an adult, but that doesn’t mean today goes by the board.
We thought long and hard about what to do today: with meetings in London, it was going to be hard for me to go up to my mother’s house in Northamptonshire, so she decided to come down to London this morning with Billy the Whippet (honorary son) to stay for a night with my sister.
But we do have plans outside of NW5: we are joining our friend Brigitte for a late lunch at The Arts Club. A Gospel Brunch, no less. I know my mama will like this. After all, there will be great food, great singing and great friends. What could be lovelier?
Now I just have to work out what to wear. Although I think we can guarantee it will not be shirred and puffed pink gingham, and there definitely won’t be any hair ribbons or knee-high socks. (I’d give my mama bonus points if she arrived in a pair of kickass flares like the ones above though.)