We become our parents.
When I look into a mirror, I look just like a bearded Mum.
I have her cheek bones.
My formerly red hair has faded, just as hers did.
I have that jowly loose skin around my neck, which only plastic surgery could put right. And I do not have enough “plastic” to afford plastic surgery.
When I am at ease, I realise that I am holding my head just as she did.
She gave me a love for immigrants. Mum was the only person on our Street to welcome some immigrants from Pakistan with a gift of food.
And there were gifts from Dad,
He loved Irish people. Unusual for an Englishman.
He was a bit of a loner - so am I.
He spent many by listening to “classical” music on the radio.
That’s my deal too.
But it is not “all the same”
I grow much more liberal as I get older. I have no patience with conservative crap in Church or State. I think that Mum and Dad were much more conformist. I suspect that they both admired Winston Churchill.
I believe that he was an inspiring World War II leader for the U.K.; but also that he was a reactionary prick.
I know that Mum loved the British Royal Family.
I despise them, and would not cross the street to say “hello” to any one them.
But when I cut up a juicy pear - well then I know that my dear Mum lives in me.
And that’s also true for Dad when I savour a bit of watercress,