Diary of a parson’s wife

Polly Zipperlen on the hazards of calling a spade a spade

In many ways I am the antithesis of my mother. She was a stay-at-home mum who dedicated herself to the routine dictated by myself and my brother. Although she was a non-driver, we became very independent at quite a young age. My brother once took himself off to fetch fish and chips age 4. At 12, I recall pootling off on a ‘date’ to Covent Garden with a boy I had met two weeks previously at Pontin’s. The entire arrangements carried out by post. He turned up with his mother in tow, and the attraction instantly evaporated.

There are some similar characteristics between my mother and myself. For instance, neither of us has a poker face and have always favoured honesty over a delicately-phrased nicety. Never ask us if an item of clothing suits you unless you can stomach an authentic reaction.

I was reminded of this last week, when bumping into a friend shopping and asked him his weekend plans. He was excited to tell me about an upcoming camping trip with his girlfriend, at which I promptly laughed, the mirth being precipitated by the terrible Spring weather, rather than being directed at his desire for a much-deserved weekend away; the upshot being that I realised way too late that my response may have been a little unwarranted and possibly offensive. Luckily, he was more amused than offended.

I fear that my youngest son has inherited the trait. When he was four, I asked him (for some unfathomable reason) whether I was the best mummy in the world. I should have known, when he looked thoughtful for too long a pause, that the answer was not going to go my way. When he finally proclaimed – “Well there is Tara”, I was flummoxed. I was number 5 on the list, after my sister-in-law and three other friends. I should have been forewarned as, two years previously, my eldest son, also then four, had suggested to me I might like to wear clothes like Tara. I have to say they chose wisely and the accolade is well-deserved; everyone needs a little bit of Tara in their lives.

Luckily though, I now have the dog, and he definitely thinks I am the best person in the household, being the prime carer, feeder, dog-walker and playmate. Although, I have to say, he is very keen on my friend Fran…