Sunday, 26 March 2017

My Mum's love of reading

Mum and me & a much sought-after book

Mother's Day always smarts a little for me because it reminds me of what I no longer have: a Mum. My Mum died several years ago, so a day that celebrates mothers is naturally somewhat painful for me. But rather than focus on the sadness of her loss, which I can do any day of the year, I've decided there's no reason why I can't celebrate her even though she's not here anymore. Fittingly given that this is a book blog, I want to honour my Mum's love of reading.

I think anyone who knew my Mum even vaguely would know she liked to read. So frequent were her visits to the library, that the librarians knew her by sight if not by name. Admittedly, Malvern  - my hometown - isn't exactly a sprawling metropolis, so people do tend to know each other but, still, Mum must definitively have been on the top 10 must frequent users list (should such a thing exist). In fact, much to her amusement, I once observed she used library cards as other women used credit cards. Having taken as many as books as she was allowed on her own card, she took out yet more books with my Dad's, my sisters' and my cards. In fairness, having moved away to various locations, my sisters and I had no need for our cards and she did use Dad's card to take out books that he might like.

She not only went to the library for her reading fix, she also regularly raided the shelves of the local supermarkets for books; if you have go through the tedium of picking up broad beans each week (my Dad's favourites), you may as well use it as an opportunity to indulge in your favourite pastime. Whenever I went to the supermarket with her, her first question as soon as we were through the doors was "shall we look at the magazines/books?". This question was always rhetorical given, without waiting for me to answer, she immediately headed in the direction of the mag/book aisle. Should I grumble too much about this, she'd shut me up by offering to buy me a mag as well (she did this even when I was in my 20s).

Our house, therefore not surprisingly, had books in pretty much every room; some parents turn their children's bedrooms into gyms once they've flown the next, she turned ours into mini libraries. My Dad (fair enough really) had limited tolerance for having books (and magazines) everywhere, so Mum would occasionally palm off some of her extensive collection to her friends to quieten his mutterings.

Mum not only loved to read, she also enjoyed writing about the books she'd read. Flicking through these observations, it seems she finds a fair few books "OTT" (if you will read romantic sagas, what do you expect?) and wonders if Shopaholic and Baby will be the next book to follow Shopaholic and Sister in Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic series - an accurate prediction it turns out. I think she'd have loved Goodreads  - assuming I was able to teach her how to use the site (teaching her how to send an email was a hit and miss affair) - and would have enjoyed reading book blogs. In fact, one of the saddest things about her being no longer around, for me, is that she'll never read this blog or follow my bookish musings on Twitter. Mum and I had many things in common, but our shared loved of reading certainly created a strong bond between us.

One of my most lovely reading memories of Mum is that, shortly before she died, she found a copy of Chronicle of The Royal Family in the local Oxfam. She'd apparently wanted it for years but could never bring herself to fork out the £20 or so quid it would cost to buy it new, so she was absolutely delighted to pick it up secondhand (muggins here was less pleased as I was the one who had to lug the huge tome back to the car). She never got chance to read it, but I am happy that she achieved one of her book ambitions before she died. I own the book now and I'll never part with it. She, of course, would think it was a total hoot that her die-hard republican daughter now treasures a book on the royal family (she'd find it even funnier that I am actually much more of a monarchist these days).

Appropriately enough, there's a now bench in her memory in the grounds of the library that she loved so much. It's in the perfect location - anyone who sits on it can read their library books while looking at all the people coming and going from the library. I can't think of anything my Mum would enjoy more than combining reading with people watching.

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