I am spectacularly and uncharacteristically coordinated, presenting a goddess of a kind in matching green sweater and hip hugging trousers..

Daughter: Are you channelling Kermit?

I take a meditative stroll through my thoughts and run the wide-tooth afro comb through her  hair. I am so enjoying this: the sweet scent of coconut oil and the rare, peaceful bubble that is me plus her…

Daughter: Do you think a career in forensic psychology..

After a long pause..

Me: Yes..?

Daughter: Will give me the access I need …

Me: To?

The mysterious, often disturbing, complex and dark, unfathomable workings of the human mind…?

Daughter: Cadavers..

Suddenly she’s staring at me with her huge, soft, melancholy eyes..  

Daughter: I just need to be close to them, mother.

Am overflowing with pride following her GCSE results…a cornucopia of As and Bs and a BTEC distinction in IT…..

Me: So so so so proud of you!!

She grunts but I catch a half-smile before she has time to hide it….

Me: The world is your Oyster…not Oyster as in the card…but Oyster as in the world…it’s so exciting…

She looks at me askance…..

Daughter: It’s no big deal…they’re just GCSE’s..

Me: It IS a big deal….take that from someone who failed miserably in her O Levels….including Maths for which I received a U.

Daughter: So you were huge and thick when you were my age.

Me: I was academically challenged and plump.

Daughter: Anyone who thinks Maths revision is counting how many Mars bars they can eat before bed time is thick mum.

Daughter: Can you bring me back some pasta?

Me: What?

Once upon a time she was five, the epitome of cute..play and pasta were her world..

Daughter: Sorry, did I stutter?

No longer five..no longer cute..

Me: I’m going to Spain.

Daughter: And your point is?

Me: Spain..the land of Paella, Patatas Bravas, Tortilla Espanola.

Daughter: You’ve lost me.

Me: Churros, Turron..

Daughter: I’d like some pasta…preferably cooked.

Just plain bizarre..

Daughter: A generous serving, with plenty of sauce, would be appreciated.

Me: I’m pretty sure they’d confiscate it at the airport.

Daughter: Have you tried before?

Me: Of course I haven’t.

Daughter: So how do you know?

There simply are no words..

Me: It’s going  to be a long, long summer. You should really think about getting yourself a part-time job.

Daughter: I will mother – when you get yourself some part-time hair.

Daughter: Mum! Mum! Mum!

Me: What?!

Daughter: I’d like a piano.

Not quite sure where this is going…

Daughter: Wasn’t there a piano in the community centre you used to work in before they fired you?

Me: I’ve never been fired from a job in my life.

Daughter: Are you sure?

Me: Of course I’m sure.

Daughter: Oh…Anyway there was a piano in the centre, a black one..can you get it for me?

Me: Are you on drugs?

Daughter: No mother I am not. I’d like a piano

Is she serious…? 

Daughter: I’m serious mother.

My job is to encourage, always to encourage…

Me: It’s never too late to learn.

Daughter: Learn what?

Me: To play piano.

Daughter: I never said I wanted to learn to play piano.

Me: But you just said…

Daughter: I’d like a piano.

Daughter: Mother! Mother! Mother!

Me: What for god sakes?!

A dramatic pause…then a deep inhalation as she prepares to say something of monumental importance..or so I think..and so I wait…Suddenly she’s up close with a solemn expression..placing both hands on my shoulders…whispering.. 

Daughter: Je ne regrette rien.

..She does a slow slow slow walk towards her room…hand on the door handle she turns to me..

Daughter: Rien, mother. Rien

Me: Have you eaten?

Daughter: Yes mother, I have.

Me: Dare I ask what you had ?

Daughter: Butter.

A little later…

Me: What would you like for dinner?

Daughter: A pint of Guinness.

I’m inhaling the sweet, earthy fragrance of  Yarrow Herb & Cranberries, Red Clover, Peony flowers, Licorice Root…a botanical tea for the more mature woman …bursting with natural goodness…

She saunters into the kitchen, picks up the herbal beverage….takes a sip..

Daughter: What the hell?!…

..and promptly spits a mouthful into the sink..

Daughter: Why would you do that to yourself?

Me: It happens to be very soothing for women of a certain age…

Daughter: It’s sewage mother.

I lift her school bag, bulging & torn at the seams, just to see how heavy it is….

Me: What have you got in here?!

Daughter: A dead body… Not quite sure how it got in there.