Four little letters

As regular readers will know (well, did I ever think I’d write these words, wherever tongue might be lurking), Greengrocer Son Al has a market stall in the neighbouring village on a Friday evening. Tonight, at about 6.30, I received a text.
“Hi. Can your get paper bags to us? We forgot to bring them and can’t get through to anyone……..”*
I texted back “Sure”
A couple of minutes later
“And pens too. Sorry! Xxx”

I pondered. I don’t have a shop key. The Sage does, but he was out. Should I drive to Denton, fetch a key, go back to the shop, back to Denton. Or might Dilly have a key. She didn’t have, but times move on.
I went next door.
We have a cautiously informal arrangement. One doesn’t want to barge in uninvited but, on the other hand, around tea/bath/bed (for the baby) time, loud knocking and waiting for invitation to go in is not necessarily helpful. So I tapped the knocker and went in, calling at medium pitch. It was all right, they were in the kitchen and, furthermore, Dilly has a key which she lent me.

I drove to the shop, fetched bags and pens and left again.
Drove two miles down the road, to the turning to Denton. Received text.
“Is it too late to ask you to pick up new potatoes too? Don’t worry if it is.”
“Sure” I texted.
And drove back, unlocked, loaded up the local, the Essex and the washed new potatoes (as I didn’t know which, or if all, he wanted), locked the door, drove to Denton.
I arrived on the dot of 7, which wasn’t bad, just in time for the first customer.

I hadn’t actually been planning to visit the market tonight, as I hadn’t done the watering yet because it was too hot to want to spend time in the greenhouses. But, since I was there, I bought a granary loaf, some rolls, fillet steak for dinner and a free-range oven-ready chicken. Didn’t wait for the bar to open, came home, watered, cooked dinner, ate dinner, drank wine throughout.

Received another text
“Can you ask Dad to get another 8 trays of strawberries for sat please. Xxx”

*You will observe, throughout these exchanges that, not only are we all extremely polite to each other, but that none of us uses ‘txt’. As a mother, I did my job well (which words are the happiest in any mum’s vocabulary). As adults, my children are a credit to themselves (as I didn’t teach them anything at all about texting – they taught me).

2 comments on “Four little letters

  1. Geena

    That’s one of the nicest posts I’ve read recently.

    You seem to have an amazing relationship with Al – and as you said…how polite you all are. Moms are great…really they are.

    Mine, in South Africa, has been immersed in sorting out various tax and banking issues on my behalf for some months…it must be so time consuming and she does it all willingly…and I do the same as your son….with all the extra thoughts about what needs to be done….except I do mine by email…I bombard her at work with little mails…she never complains…

    I hope I turn out to be such a super Mum when my boys are grown.

    Mums r gr8. 😉

  2. Z

    Well, thanks Geena, you are a sweetheart. And of course you’ll look after your sons as your mum does for you, it’s natural and a pleasure. And your mum knew to let you go too, which is important and really hard to do (my offspring did leave, but they came back again).
    Hope your mum is coping, I think about her. x


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