Home Is Where the Hearth Was

Currently, a hugely irritating advertisement for British Telecom is being run on the commercial television channels. The advert suggests that mobile phones are completely bobbins for talking to close members of ones family. In using a mobile phone - apparently - one sends a message that family isn't very important.

Tosh!

Mobile phones are ideal for familial communication. For the next few weeks I intend only to use a mobile phone when conversing with my immediate family, not least because when the topic under discussion (i.e. my father and his propensity to demolish/build things whenever my mother goes on holiday) gets eggy, I can do my top notch crackle, crackle the signal's not very good sound effect and ring off. You can't do that with a land line.

This morning I took a phone call from my brother. (On my mobile phone, of course.) When a conversation begins "Has Dad told you what he's done?' and ones response during the ensuing ten minutes is to say Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit then the sole possible action is to unplug the land line for a month or so.

My mother arrived back in England yesterday, though not - as yet - in Yorkshire, after an extended holiday with my aunt. She telephoned my brother.

Ma: I believe Brian's been staying for a few weeks?
Bro: And Trevor, Terry, John and Joe.
Ma: Who are they?
Bro: A joiner, a plumber, a plasterer and I don't know what Joe does -
Ma: WHAT HAS YOUR FATHER DONE TO MY HOUSE?
Bro: Er, Crackle, Crackle.
Ma: WHAT HAS HE DONE TO MY HOUSE???
Bro: Crackle, Crackle - Can you hear me, Mother? I can't hear you? (HANGS UP.)

In previous years, my father has stolen a third of my mother's kitchen (in order to build a WC - so he could spend pennies quickly between losing pounds - equally quickly - on horse races, I suspect), built a snooker room with a full size snooker table (upon which he currently stores his collection of antique golf clubs), annexed half of the garage to build a gym (still unused after five years), put in four bathrooms (which points towards some sort of obsession) and demolished all the walled flower beds so he could park his car more easily.

He thinks - according to my brother - that if he moves the television slightly to the left, Ma won't notice what he's demolished this time ...

I'll be incommunicado until the dust settles. (Quite literally.)

Mother Tongue # 3

Location: House by a canal, somewhere in Yorkshire.
Characters: Mother, Daughter

Daughter: Mum, why have you got statues of naked men everywhere?
Ma: I inherited them from Great Uncle Alun. Do you like them?
Daughter: They're unusual ...
Ma: I wanted to put a sash on William -
Daughter: William?
Ma: The bronze without a head. I think he looks a bit cold -
Daughter: Yes, I can see that -
Ma: But your father thinks a sash would be tacky -
Daughter: Tacky?
Ma: And that William is inspirational as he is.
Daughter: Inspirational?
Ma: He might have said comforting. Or was it -?
Daughter: Did Great Uncle Alun have any naked female statues?
Ma: No, he said they were difficult to dust.
BEAT.
Daughter: Was Great Uncle Alun gay?
Ma: Don't be ridiculous! He was engaged once.
Daughter: When?
Ma: 1953. He broke it off.
Daughter: Why?
Ma: His fiancee phoned him wailing she was going to kill herself. Alun was so worried that he rang the police. They called at her flat and there she was, sitting in front of the gas fire eating chocolates in her stockinged feet.
Daughter: Right ...?
Ma: Well, how could he marry her after that?
Daughter: Because she didn't have her slippers on?
Ma: It made him wary of women. Come upstairs and I'll show you his engraving of the Monks of Bangor being put to the sword by the order of Ethelfrid. It's lovely.

Roll credits

Eat Your Heart Out, Philip Larkin...

Location: American-style restaurant. Interior. Afternoon.

Characters: Father - late 60s; Mother - ditto; Daughter - not telling.

Father: Next?

Daughter: It's a shop.

Father: Next?

Daughter: They sell sofas. You wanted to buy a sofa.

Mother: Where are we going after Next?

Father: After next? That's not even English.

Mother: He needs towels.

Father: Only the people of Inverness speak English properly.

Mother: The Welsh speak perfectly good English!

Father (LOOKING AT DAUGHTER): Most of the time I haven't a clue what your mother's saying.

Daughter: I thought you said you wanted bedding?

Father (SNORTS): At my age?

Daughter: Duvets. Sheets.

Mother: He thinks he's funny. (LOOKS AT FATHER). You're not.

Daughter (QUICKLY): Are you scattering Uncle John's ashes tomorrow?

Mother: Yes. The lifeboat men are doing it.

Daughter: Where?

Mother: At sea.

Daughter: Where at sea?

Father (HEAVILY): Wales.

Mother: It's what he would have wanted.

Father: He lived in Clapham for sixty years. There's no sea in Clapham.

Mother: There is actually. A capital C!

Father (LOOKING AT DAUGHTER): She thinks she's funny. (LOOKS AT MOTHER). You're not.

Daughter: Shall we have a coffee?

Father: The Welsh are not a funny race.

Daughter: Mum, coffee?

Father: Name me a single funny Welsh comedian -

Daughter: Dad? Coffee?

Mother: Max Boyce.

Father: Max Boyce? Funny?

Daughter: Ignore him. He's winding you up.

Father: Another thing about the Welsh -

Daughter (EMPHATICALLY): Who wants coffee? I'll have an espresso. Mum?

Mother: Tea. I'll have tea.

PAUSE.

Father: Angela wants to move back in.

Daughter: Who's Angela?

Mother: One of his tenants. She moved to Newcastle.

Father: She wants to move back.

Mother: Do you want her back?

Father: She's a lovely woman.

Mother: She committed a sex act in The Bay Horse!

Father: As I said, she's a lovely woman.

Daughter: What did she do?

Mother: Sex acts. (BEAT). Plural.

Daughter: Wha -?

Father (LEANING BACK): We'll finish the shopping in the morning.

Mother: We're going to Wales in the morning.

Father: Chester. It's on the way.

Mother: We are not shopping in the morning.

Daughter: Ignore him.

Father: I'll have a cappuccino -

Mother: We are not shopping in the morning.

Father: And a brandy -

Mother: We are not shopping in the morning!

Daughter: Ignore him.

Father: Where's the dessert menu?

Mother: WE ARE NOT SHOPPING IN THE MORNING!

Father (TAKING MOBILE PHONE OUT OF HIS POCKET): I think I'll give Angela a ring -

Roll credits

Mother's Tongue #2

Mother: Are you out of bed yet?

Daughter: It's half-past three.

Mother: Mary's home.

Daughter: I didn't know she'd been away.

Mother: Poland. Three weeks.

Daughter: Did she have a good break?

Mother: I had a good break. (BEAT). She's driving me mad.

Daughter: Hmm?

Mother: I took her to Morrison's on Friday.

Daughter: That was nice.

Mother: She was telling me about something she'd eaten.

Daughter: Yes?

Mother: Oliver oils.

Daughter: Oliver oils?

Mother: Oliver oils. I said, "Describe them to me, Mary" and she said, "You can eat them hot or cold."
Daughter: Oliver oils?

Mother: Sweet or savoury.

Daughter: Oliver oils?

Mother: And that a lady would take two bites but a man would stuff it in all at once.

Daughter: Oliver oils?

Mother: Vol-au-vents.

Daughter: Ohhh...

Mother: Yes, I got there in the end. She leaned over, patted me on the knee and said "Good girl, patience is a virgin."

Daughter: How's Dad?

Mother: Don't ask!

Daughter: Okay.

Mother: He's put a sign up on the spare bedroom.

Daughter: Sign?

Mother: Presidential Suite.

Daughter: What?

Mother: He thinks we should start a B&B.

Daughter: Why?

Mother: He's met a man in sausages.

Daughter: In sausages?

Mother: Gets them cheap. Your father says people will go for a Presidential Suite and unlimited sausage sandwiches.

Daughter: I hope you've said no.

Mother: The sign's fallen off twice.

Daughter: How's the book?

A VOICE IS HEARD: Duchess! Duchess!

Daughter: Who's that?

Mother (WHISPERING): Mary. She said she'd bring some parkin for your father. But I've hidden the infra-red.

Daughter: Infra-red what?

Mother: That massage thing. He puts on his bathrobe and gets Mary to do his neck.

Daughter: Sausage sandwiches and a full body massage by a seventy-six year old Pole? You'll be booked up.

VOICE COMING CLOSER: Duchess! Duchess?

Mother: Ring me later, I'm going to hide.

Mother's Tongue

See posts passim to contextualise the following:

Mother: I could strangle your bloody father!

Daughter (HOLDING 'PHONE AWAY FROM EAR): I'm sure he's not really a tramp.

Mother: What?

Daughter: I doubt whether Sid Dene is really a tramp.

Mother: Who's Sid Dene?

Daughter (QUICKLY): Ignore me. I've just woken up.

Mother: Are you in bed?

Daughter: I've got Swine 'flu, remember?

Mother: You should get up. You'll feel much better. Anyway, I am so cross with your father I could spit!

Daughter (RESIGNED): Why? What's he done now?

Mother: Mark's been round.

Daughter: Mark?

Mother: His biographer.

Daughter: Mmm?

Mother: You know that Trade Fayre your father was at in Birmingham?

Daughter: No.

Mother: Yes, you do. When he was selling Space Invaders.

Daughter: Still no.

Mother: You do. We'd just moved back to Leeds.

Daughter: In 1979?

Mother: Yes.

Daughter: I was thirteen.

Mother: That's beside the point. (TRIUMPHANT). He wasn't there!

Daughter: Who wasn't where?

Mother: Mark's been going over the first draft.

Daughter: Where's Dad?

Mother: In the bath.

Daughter: Is Mark in the bath with him?

Mother: Don't be stupid. Mark's sitting on the pouffe in our bedroom. I was on the landing, dusting, and I happened to hear Mark read out 1979.

Daughter: He's reading loudly then.

Mother: He has to. Your father keeps topping up the hot water and the immersion's noisy.

Daughter (WEAKLY): I'm really not feeling very well, Mum.

Mother: Your father wasn't at the Trade Fayre. He was in Spain. Playing golf with Jimmy Tarbuck! And you weren't well.

Daughter: I'm not well now.

Mother: Your father's life has been a closed book.

Daughter: Not for much longer.

Mother: What does that mean?

Daughter (SIGHS): I'm going to have to go, Mum.

Mother: I'm not going to tell him I know. I'm playing my cards close to my face.

Daughter: Chest.

Mother: That too. (QUICKLY). Have to go. He's pulled the plug out.