I didn’t like the ending. Stupid, I know. It’s right there in the title. I found it so upsetting, I ran into my mother’s bedroom, woke her up and hugged her tightly. I have been taking her for granted. She won’t be around forever and I must appreciate her more now while she still has all of her faculties despite her difficulties with her mental and physical health. The next day I ran out and bought her flowers, chocolates and her favourite cheesecake as early Mother’s Day gifts.
This is a collection of short autobiographical articles covering 10 years, originally written for the author’s column in The Guardian. We begin with an 89-year-old independent grandmother called Clarice deciding to move from her home on the coast in Brighton to live with her 54-year-old daughter and 18-year-old granddaughter in London.