(Well, the cushion's pink.)
We have all heard the words of The Mother, whether we were deserving or not!
They have echoed around in the ether since the days that we slept in a cot.
And I've recently, blogging, discovered, that maternal advice is the same
Regardless of land or location, regardless of nation or name!
'Your room is a pigsty!' Remember! You must have heard that in your time.
As though just a few items of rubbish could count as a capital crime!
'Do I look like I'm made out of money?' No answer expected for that.
We'd just asked for a luxury item; we'd asked but she'd turned us down flat.
'Don't make me come up there!' she'd bellow, in response to some terrible lapse.
(We'd tramped some wet mud on the carpet or smashed her best teapot, perhaps!)
'Wipe that smirk off your face!' Were we smirking? We just had a small facial tic!
'You wait till we're home!' That was threatening! And we just weren't winning a trick!
'When I was your age…….' That was frequent. The Mother had been such a saint!
While the things she described were so ghastly and quite antiquated and quaint!
'Do you live in a field?' What a question? We'd just left a door open wide!
And we were engrossed in some item that was always located inside.
Oh, we heard her, we heard her, The Mother; her words echoed loud, echoed long.
But it was a bit of a worry when we started to sing the same song!
It was an evening of wrong choices!
First there was my date.
She really blotted her copybook
By being two hours late!
I'd met her on the Internet,
Where her photo caught my eye.
She turned up with her head half-shaved,
So the photo was a lie.
I'd chosen 'La Gorgonzola'
As a restaurant of repute.
It boasted 'An Intimate Setting'
So I felt that it would suit.
It turned out to be too intimate;
I couldn't have swung a cat!
All the other tables were empty!
I should have smelt a rat!
At first I admired the table-cloth,
With its patterns in burgundy,
The swirly-curly patterns
Looked quite alright to me
Until I saw they were wine stains!
The cloth had started out white!
But many a glass of red wine
Had been spilt on it each night!
I voiced my peeves to the waiter,
Grumbled with might and main,
And, suddenly Ada shouted
'You do nothing but complain!
I expected a pleasant evening
But you are just a drag!'
And out she flounced with a parting shot.....
'I've really lost my rag!'
It was then I saw the lipstick
She'd left on the side of her glass!
Well, that was hardly romantic!
I couldn't let it pass!
'If there's one thing I hate it's your lipstick'
I shouted as she went!
An evening of wrong choices......
Not the best I've ever spent!
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