DEAR readers, if you turn to this part of the paper every week for my daughter's column I must surely have your sympathy. You must ask, as I do: "Who could possibly deserve a daughter like Nippy Sweetie, who takes such delight in pouring libel and ridicule on her mother?" I brought my children up to respect their elders and betters. What went wrong? More to the point, how can I get my own back? Now that she and Mr Turner are off on holiday, it's revenge time.
Where to start? As a child she was sweet, loving and good – so much so, she wanted to become a nun. Which goes to show that God does indeed work in mysterious ways and the Sisters of the world have had a blessed escape. As she grew older, she would –
on very rare occasions – offer help with the housework. This was a bit of a two-edged sword. Help around the house is always welcome, but after it was done no one was allowed to sit down for fear of denting a cushion. Woe betide you if you wanted to use the bathroom or make a cup of tea. Your every movement would be accompanied by sighs and tuts. Mr Turner ruefully tells me things have not changed much over the years.
I do have some recent experience of her exacting cleaning, ironing and housework standards. A few years ago she wasn't well and I – like any good mother – rushed to be at my daughter's side to help in her hour of need. What I didn't expect was to be berated for not getting the pleats in the curtains at the right width or for arranging her sofa cushions in the wrong order. It's a marvel to me that I managed to bring up a family without causing serious illness or death – specifically her's.
She wasn't exactly in a position to complain about someone else's nursing and housewifery skills. Years before, I was recovering from flu and my darling daughter offered to make me a little something to eat. Something light and delicate – a boiled egg perhaps? How nice of her, how thoughtful. Well, it would have been if her recipe for boiling an egg was any different from just putting the egg in a pan of cold water and putting it on the stove for three minutes. Food poisoning and flu isn't a combination I would wish on anyone.
While she is away, I think it is the perfect time to correct a few of the gross calumnies that my daughter has cast upon my blameless character in her column.
1. It was not me who threw her into a pool at Butlins or anywhere else. Although I think she should be grateful that she will be able to survive should she ever fall from that ocean liner.
2. I most certainly did not teach her to play poker so that I could relieve my children of their holiday money – they were never given any money to start with.
3. I had nothing to do with the wrong tooth being pulled. And far from being scratchy angora, that scarf that I tied around her mouth was actually the softest cashmere.
4. Before I go on holiday I do not march her around the house allotting my so called valuables in the event that anything happens to me. In any case, I have now moved everything around so should I pop my clogs she will be left in a sorry state trying to sort it all out.
Having said all that, she does run around after all the members of the family and is usually among the first to offer her services. An evil little thought has just entered my head. Maybe she just does it so that she can be in control of everyone.
The full article contains 648 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
