Mum wasnt best pleased when she discovered that my husbands relatives had invited us to stay with them by the seaside this summer. They live near the coast and would be delighted to host me and my daughter for the whole summer. Of course, I want to goour GP actually recommended some time by the sea for the little one, so she might be healthier and less prone to catching colds through the year.
But Mum is terribly upset, saying its out of the question because the summers when the garden needs the most attention, and she simply cant cope without my help. She really relies on me and has already started about how little I helped last year. Fair play, last summer the baby was only a few months oldI hardly had a minute to myself, let alone spare time for Mums allotment.
Honestly, Ive been fed up with Mums garden since I was a teenager. Everyone else spent their holidays swimming and having fun, and there I was trundling off nearly every day, armed with a to-do list: weeding, watering, sorting out the beds. Both my parents worked, only had weekends free, so of course, my time off was garden time. Why waste a free afternoon lazing about when you could be elbow-deep in compost?
While other kids were out on picnics or at the lido, there I was sweating over runner beans and raspberries. All for Mum to inevitably spend every weekend picking over my work and telling me Id done it all wrong.
When I got to uni, all I wanted was to earn a bit for myself in the summer months. Naturally, that led to another barrage of guilt trips.
When I got married, Mum tried to rope David into the gardening game, but he came along once or twice, clocked that the work was never-ending and frankly pointless, and refused point-blank to do more. She couldnt believe ither argument being that wed all benefit from the veg. David, however, pointed out it was cheaper and simpler to just pop to Sainsburys every week than to spend every Saturday working the land. I started visiting even less frequently after that, though I still felt the sting of Mums disapproval from miles away.
Eventually, pregnancy gave me a solid excusebeing with child in the heat is bad enough without adding a days gardening. Once the baby arrived, I basically skipped the entire gardening season, even though Mum dropped endless hints about how it could be managed. She finally backed off, knowing nothing much would get done with a newborn. But I could tell she was holding out hope for the following year.
Mums great plan has always been that, once my daughter was bigger, we could take turns minding her while the other worked the allotment, so I could roll up my sleeves and make a proper contribution again.
And think how good itll be for her, Mum insisted. All this London pollutioneverything dusty and grey. At the allotment theres fresh air, sunshine, well get a little paddling pool and a parasol, she can have a splash, itll be bliss!
It didnt fill me with glee, but I kept quiet to avoid a row. I had other ideas entirely.
At Christmas, Davids mum was round and so was his godmother, Auntie Sue, who hes really close tohe actually calls her his second mum. Auntie Sue and her husband live by the sea in Cornwall. Their sons grown up now and lives abroad, so its just the two of them rattling around that lovely house.
Theyd invited us down for the summer, free of charge, and said theyd love to have us stay. At first, I assumed it was a polite gesture, but then Auntie Sue rang more than once to say we were genuinely welcome. David cant get away for the entire summer but could manage a week at the start to settle us in and a week at the end to collect us, which works perfectly.
We both desperately want to escape to the sea for once, especially as the doctor agrees itll do our daughter a world of good. So I said yes. But Mum instantly found fault with the whole arrangement.
Suddenly, the suns a health hazard, and how could I possibly go off to strangers, when her precious allotment is apparently the answer to all ills? She even reminded me of how she managed the garden on her own last summer, making sure I knew how much she sacrificed. My determination to go has only made matters worse.
But honestlygiven the choice between a summer of endless garden chores down the allotment and a summer at the seaside, who wouldnt pick the sea? Especially when we dont actually need anything from the garden. We buy our fruit and veg, and Mums endless jars of chutney and jam are still stacked up in the cellar untouched; we simply arent fans.
I know Im letting Mum down in her eyes, but I just cant bring myself to spend another summer tied to the garden when theres fresh sea air, sandcastles, and bright sun waiting for us in Cornwall.
