My Mum is a great one for raising money for charity. Nearly every week she has some charity event on the go. Therefore, I thought that she would be over the moon to hear about #BloggersBeatingCancer
Transcript of the conversation (as far as I can remember)
Me: Hi Mum
Mum: Who is this?
Me: It’s me, Mum.
Mum: Who is me?
Me: Your daughter!
Me: Yes! How many other daughters do you have?
Mum: Oh yes, now I can tell it’s you, now that you are being rude. It didn’t sound like you before.
Me: I think calling you Mum was a bit of a giveaway.
Mum: Is this important? Only I fear that your Father has finally lost it. He is marching around our back garden with just his dressing gown on, holding onto his pistol.
Mum: It’s his water pistol. He is bloody obsessed with the pigeons and he keeps shooting at them with his water pistol. I am terrified that Jean is going to pop round and see your Father marching around the garden in all his glory. I mean, it’s very breezy out there and the wind keeps blowing his dressing gown open. Hang on….*shouts* Michael I can see it! Tuck it in between your legs man.
Me: I really don’t want to be hearing this Mum.
Mum: Your Father is quite obsessed with the birds. Obsessed. Although, I should be grateful that it is the feathered variety. Do you know, for a while there he became a little bit infatuated with the waitress from the café? He was spending a fortune there so he could see her. Every day he was there buying cheese scones and coffee. Everyday.
Me: Oh, I’m sorry Mum.
Mum: I wouldn’t have minded but she was older than me.
Mum: And older than your Father.
Me: Really? She must be ancient!
Mum: Your Father started chatting her up when he noticed her snazzy wheels.
Me: Oh, what kind of car does she have?
Mum: She doesn’t. She was pushing her shopper. You know those bags on wheels. Your Father thinks we should get one for the booze run. He reckons my love of wine is damaging his back. He refuses to carry the empties to the bottle bank now.
Me: Oh dear.
Mum: Yes, anyway, it turned out he had a bit of a thing for Sandie, owner of the cafe. She’s 82. I think he was lining her up ready for when I pop my clogs. He was thinking that she could be his sugar mummy.
Me: Mum, that’s appalling.
Mum: No, Emma, that’s your Father. Incapable of looking after himself.
Me: Could it be that he needed his cheese scone fix? You do refuse to make them for him anymore.
Mum: I refuse because I was forever in that kitchen having to whip up new batches. Life is too short to spend it baking, Emma! Anyway, why are you ringing?
Me: I wanted to tell you about this new campaign I am doing with Sarah from Mumzilla.
Mum: Sarah from where?
Mum: Emma, there is no such thing as a Mumzilla.
Me: Yes, there is.
Mum: Emma, I know that you are gullible but I can tell you 100%, that there were no dinosaurs roaming earth called Mumzilla.
Me: *Sigh* Mum, it is the name of Sarah’s blog.
Mum: Oh! Mumzilla. I like it, catchy! Why couldn’t you have had a name like that? Instead of boring Island Living 345
Me: Firstly, I tried to tell you that it was a blog. Secondly, my blog is Island Living 365. Not 345! Think days of the year.
Mum: What about a leap year?
Mum: *Sounding smug* Well it wouldn’t be 365 then.
Me: Anyway, we are going to raise money for two cancer charities. We are starting a hashtag.
Mum: A hashtag. Sounds like drugs to me, something I would have smoked in the 60s.
Me: No, it’s not. It’s what you use on Twitter.
Mum: Oh you mean a H-A-S-H-T-A-G. Well, why didn’t you say that?
Me: I did!
Mum: So what is your H-A-S-H-T-A-G?
Me: Mum, you don’t need to shout H-A-S-H-T-A-G really slowly.
Mum: I’m not. So what is your H-A-S-H-T-A-G then?
Me: It is Bloggers Beating Cancer.
Mum: Oh. Hmmm.
Mum: Well, it’s hardly catchy. Doesn’t exactly roll of the tongue.
Me: I think it does! It has a nice flow.
Mum: No, bit of a mouthful that. You want something snappier than that. You want it bending!
Mum: You know when it is bending all over the internet.
Me: You mean T-R-E-N-D-I-N-G
Mum: No need to shout and speak slowly. I am not an idiot.
Me: *Mutters under breath* Debatable.
Mum: No, a better hashtag would be balls to cancer. You can have that! I won’t tell anyone that I came up with it.
Me: Mum, I am pretty sure that one has been used.
Me: Yes, for testicular cancer. Hence the balls.
Mum: Ahh, that would make sense.
Mum: Testicular cancer is a very big killer of men you know.
Me: Yes, I know.
Mum: You should always check your balls.
Me: Haha, is there something you want to tell me Mum? I hope you don’t have balls.
Mum: Don’t be cheeky. I was checking your Father’s balls. When he is in downward dog, I just slip a hand between…
Me: MUM! Stop it!
Mum: You are such a prude. How are you a daughter of mine? Perhaps your Father is right, you must be the milkman’s daughter.
Mum: I’m joking. Only the other day I was holding your Father’s…..
Me: I don’t want to hear this.
Mum:…..Hand and I turned to him and said, how are you still bloody here?
Me: Oh….that’s such a lovely thing to say to your husband of 40 plus years.
Mum: I know, I could have murdered him and be out of prison by now.
Mum: What? I mean your Father has the blood pressure of a teenager. A teenager! Have you seen what he shovels in his mouth? He is a walking dustbin. I live on lettuce leaves and there I am with sky-high blood pressure.
Me: Yep, it’s not fair.
Mum: Then look at your Nan. She smoked for many, many years and only drinks her whisky in double measures and she’s still here. 86 years old. She’s going to outlive us all.
Me: Yes, she probably will.
Mum: It’s a cruel life when you see young and healthy people dying from cancer. You just never know. Yes, I think this brilliant what you and Mumzilla are doing. I hope it’s a roaring *chuckles to herself* success. I will do everything I can help to get it bending.
Mum: Oh yes, that’s the one. Hang on – *shouts* MICHAEL, stop waving your pistol around.
Me: Oh, Mum, just leave him alone. He is not doing any harm with his water pistol.
Mum: Emma, it’s not his water pistol, it’s his other pistol.
Me: Other pistol?
Mum: Oh for goodness sake Emma. I mean his PENIS!
Me: Oh good grief. Why?
Mum: I blame that Bear Grylls. He watched something the other day and he now reckons human urine will keep the pigeons away. He is like some big cat, marking his territory. He is now firing at the pigeons with his pistol *Shouts* MICHAEL, DON’T YOU DARE AIM YOUR WILLY AT MY CLEAN WASHING! NO, MICHAEL, NOT OVER MY BUSHES. Emma, I’m going to have to go before the neighbours see your Father weeing in the wind! Great idea Emma. I will do everything I can to get it bending!
Me: *Sighs* Trending. It’s trending.
Join us. Let’s get trending (not bending)
Will you join us? Write a post, use the #BloggersBeatingCancer badge or the picture below if you want to, and just let people know what we are hoping to do, when and why. Every penny we raise goes towards two brilliant charities. Cure and care.
#BloggersBeatingCancer – join us on Friday 30th September at 10.30am, for coffee and a social media thunderclap. Use the hashtag, get your friends involved, and get fundraising if you can. Anyone can take part in the virtual coffee morning. Who doesn’t love coffee and a natter? Get hold of your friends, chat online, it could be the friend who now lives abroad or the one who lives in the next town. Thanks to the internet you can chat to them like they are in the same room. Join us have a chat, make a difference.
Please donate to or share our fundraising page, which is open from today – https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/bloggersbeatingcancer