13 minutes

13 minutes while the bread rolls are in the oven. 13 minutes peace and quiet - no-one looking over my shoulder. 13 minutes privacy to think my own thoughts. My mother told my sister that she never really bonded with me when I was a baby. A few months ago this was but I still think about it frequently. I feel hurt, shocked. But also a feeling of 'well that explains a lot'. I mean, I was fairly sure she loved me as much as she loves any of us -when you have so many children, it can't be that easy. But I thought she loved us all the same - lightly, distantly, concientiously if not over affectionately. But perhaps she loves the others more than me. Perhaps she has a favorite. A special one, one who makes her eyes light up, her heart sing, brings a smile to her face when she thinks of him or her. Probably her, there are more hers than hims in our family. I remember having a day out with her, just the two of us. That was very rare, obviously when you have such a large family. It must have been a Sunday or I was off school for some reason for there just to be the two of us. We went on the bus to Elland. I was about 11 or 12. There was some kind of fair or fete going on. I don't know how she even knew about it, she was pretty well trapped at home most of the time. I especially remember there was a raffle for a doll in a crib, dressed in christening clothes. I fell in love with it though I was never much into dolls and we bought a ticket. We didn't win it though but I still remember that feeling of intense longing, of wanting it so much. She made my clothes - well, she made most of all our clothes, we were that poor. But she was a really good dressmaker, we had some really nice stuff. I simply don't remember her treating me any differently to any of the others, which is why I'm so...so what? I can't describe it - it's a bit like being embarrassed or humiliated - the feeling you get when you assume you'll be invited to a party all your friends are going to and then find out you're not - crushed - that would do it. I'm crushed. I just took for granted that my mother loved me and maybe she didn't and I feel bereft. And I don't know what I've missed - or if I'm less of a person because I haven't had that complete unconditional love of another person. The way I love my sons, that I would lay down my life for without a seconds hesitation. I'd better make sure they never have to doubt that for a single second. Time's up.

How hard can it be?

How hard can it be, honestly? Sausage and mash is not a complicated dish but for someone who can rebuild a computer with his bare hands, you don't half make a meal of it. First put sausages in oven; then start peeling potatoes, then put water on to boil and then put potatoes in. Sausages now ready; 15 minutes left for potatoes. When potatoes almost done, start thinking about veg. Put water on to boil...well, no need to go on. For gods sake, 20 seconds forethought would have told you that linear meal preparation is not a very effective way of getting dinner on the table.