It was inevitable. Mother’s Day Mother’s Way and New York and The Happy Wanderer knew just how to play me.
The bould Teasy had taken me as her Plus One to my cousin Eddie’s wedding in the Big Apple.
Where she would preen her feathers and not just those on her hat.
The Irish Diaspora, of which I am of the Scottish variety, know well the awe in which the American wave is held.
And growing up in the Grey Glasgow of the Seventies New York City and my relatives were always held up as the idyll.
Alongside, of course, my Mum’s homeland of Ireland.
To stay for three nights £619pp in the 4* Row NYC Hotel in the heart of Broadway in May with return flights Dublin to NY.
My wee Mammy will be right at home too as she is the biggest diva of them all.
The rule of Mum
But some ground rules this time…
As a seasoned travel professional I know my way around an airport (OK, she doesn’t know the truth so indulge me).
And when your relatives offer to put you up don’t think for them or look a gift horse in the mouth.
It’s an Irish thing! As is demanding to pay the dinner bill.
And I’m reminded of the Irish advert where two oul’ ones batter the hell out of each other for the right to pay.
Shop till you drop
Shopping too with any woman is a Herculean ordeal.
And in NY where that means Macy’s then my modus operandi is get in, get out.
Particularly as you can get lost in there.
And there’s no use denying that you had any part in choosing The Scary One’s souvenir.
BTW she still uses the candy pink Guess handbag.
While there’s no talking to a woman who insists on wearing her stilettos on the hop-on, hop-off Manhattan bus.
An Irish homecoming
Where she was wont to stride down the road with her sisters in her fur coat back on their return to the Bogs of Donegal back in the day.
And all of us, the next generation, revert to (or are reverted to) childhood when our parents have been around.
Such as in our old stomping ground of Jackson’s Hotel in Ballybofey.
When in the hotel where here, not Shannon, was where Irish Coffee originated she shared this gem with my Dublin cousin Monica…
‘I’ve four brothers, a husband and three sons and James (my Sunday name) is the most selfish man of them all.’
And this after I’d taken time off and driven her all the way up from Greystones in Co. Wicklow!
Silly old woman had forgotten.
That with her hearing aid in she was speaking louder and I could hear her.
Happy Mother’s Day for Sunday, ye mad thing.
And for context think Catherine Tate’s alter ego Nan from Nan The Movie.
Meanwhile I’ll daydream about Mother’s Day Mother’s Way and New York.
And much, much more.