Nagging doubts

At 81, she's brilliant and I love spending time with her.

But (and there's no way of putting this nicely) she's also a right old nag.

There. I've said it. In fact, she's always been a nag: Don't do this, don't do that, you shouldn't do it like that, you should do it like this.

I'm 50 and she still tells me what to do. She tells me what to wear, how to have my hair, and how to bring up my kids.

I instinctively found myself reaching for a white shirt and polishing my shoes when I was getting ready for work the other morning.

Why? Because I'd arranged to meet my mum for a cup of tea in town and she always tells me off if I don't look smart, saying: "You can't beat a nice white shirt and clean shoes."

On my way to the cafe, I found myself doing up the top button of my nice white shirt because I've had it nagged in to me over the decades that it looks scruffy otherwise.

If, for some reason, I'm going to be on telly, woe betide me if I'm not wearing a nice white shirt with the top button fastened. Once, she even told me to polish my shoes and wear a nice white shirt when I told her I was going to be on the radio.

"Mum, no one can see me on the radio, " I sighed.

"It doesn't matter, " she replied.

When she comes round our house, she always nags us about the pile of shoes in the hall because they look unsightly, and tells us all the things that our kids shouldn't be doing.

She has a current hang-up about Facebook. Every time I see her, I get a lecture about the dangers of Facebook. We've just fixed her up with a computer so she can keep in touch with my brother in the US and see her new grand-daughter on Skype, but she goes on and on about how she doesn't want to be on Facebook.

"It's a terrible thing, " she says.

On Saturday, I took her to the Sunderland versus Arsenal match. She enjoys football and, having been brought up in London, Arsenal is her team.

"Aren't you wearing a tie?" she said when I picked her up.

"Why?" I asked. "It's only a football match."

"I know, but you're an editor - you don't know who you'll meet."

We were sitting among the Sunderland fans so I had to tell her to keep quiet because of her Cockney accent. It was like talking to a brick wall. Every time the ref gave a decision Sunderland's way, she nag-nag-nagged at him from the stands. And when Arsenal scored the winning goal, she interrupted the stunned silence by clapping like a performing seal.

To be fair to the Sunderland fans around us, they were great with her.

They chatted to her throughout the match, despite it being abundantly clear that she was supporting the enemy.

Just before half-time, the bloke next to her leaned across, handed her a big bag of Midget Gems, and said: "Here you go love, I've had enough.

You can have these."

"Oooh, thanks very much, " she replied.

I couldn't believe my eyes and ears.

For half a century, she's nagged me about not accepting sweets from strangers.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

JOE Westcott, eight, of Nunthorpe, Middlesbrough, was talking to his dad about dinosaurs.

"Have you ever heard of a Thesaurus?" the little lad asked.

YET more anecdotes from Wentworth Park Women's Institute at Ouston, County Durham. . .

JOAN Harker told how her grandson Christopher, six at the time, came home from school looking worried.

"What's wrong?" asked his mum.

"They're going to teach us about sex at school, " he replied.

His mum tried to put his mind at ease: "Don't worry - I've already told you about the facts of life. The teacher will just tell you what I've already explained, " she said.

Christopher still looked worried, then blurted out: "Will we have to do it in front of the whole class?"

A GRANDMA, who asked to remain anonymous, told how her grand-daughter, aged eight, said to her grandpa: "It's your birthday tomorrow. How old are you going to be?"

"I'm going to be 60, pet, " he explained.

"That's very old, grandpa, " replied the little girl. "Don't you think it's about time you were dead?"