But before gin comes Mamie’s holiday first aid treat…
Cool-shower on raw skin. Mother‘s running commentary – last time I saw skin like that it was on oor Maggie efter the loft burst an aw they glass fibres went intae hur bed. In fact ye look lik yon cratur fae the co-op – ye jnow the wan – aye – ye ken – that wan thit hud the 3rd degree burns. Yur a bluidy eejit. Whit did ye no jist ston in it the gate fur?
I am wrapped in my Mother‘s rough bath sheet. Clobbered by her tongue. This is the language of love I say to myself. The love that chaffs and rubs. Burnishing till it brands.
Cocktail of anti-histamine. Witch hazel and aloe vera gel. Paracetamol. Gin and tonic.
Mother is good to herself on holiday. She brings out her Bombay Sapphire Gin. Exotic turquoise in the softening twilight of the cottage. Cuts me slices of lime. Tops up with Fentimans tonic water. And shop bought ice.
Deep sigh…
… and I reflect that if it wasn’t for the flayed skin I might even have been able to relax and enjoy…
Impaled on the thistle 
Bombay Sapphire and Fentimans eh. It's a hard life.
haha! It is indeed Graham!
This wonderful description: I am wrapped in my Mother's rough bath sheet. Clobbered by her tongue. This is the language of love I say to myself. The love that chaffs and rubs. Burnishing till it brands.
This reminds me of a documentary I saw about monkeys and there was one particular breed of monkey where the mother was so harsh on her young, but turns she out was the most devoted, the most loyal of all the mother monkeys.
That sounds so like my mother Chloe… such a wonderful analogy… thank you. x
So all this ended in a pep talk from yer Moma and free booze.
I know longer feel guilty about laughing anymore.
Just like i know longer recognize spelling or grammar.
e.f. – yer grip on spilling and grimmer is a delite to behold.
You'd do well here – a place where ironic self-deprecation is believed to be at the pinnacle of human achievement…
anyway – makes me laugh.