Memories of Mother’s Day are few and far between. A card here and a hug there did not make the day the monument it becomes as I try to sell writing about it. So I did not cause Brexit’s social unrest because my Mother was not treated well in British Law. Some sweet thoughts are enough and he cards tell me other mum’s will have words who never not mattered in a society built for their way of life.

But whoever told to be forgiving amidst her wanderings of gratitude? As she dances with a sauntering through life – She is the strength that I am not.

I grew up for Internet Users telling me I am wrong that she did not see coming.

When I cooked biscuits years ago, my mother ate some. But she never admired the grace of them being Vegan. They did not taste too good. Censure from modest religious alimony from Star Networks about Vegetarianism does not make us look good – men who sit still in Temples gloat like goats about non-Catholic mealtimes. So I may try the odd shortbread recipe again one day.

But they were not the biscuits I ate or cakes I had in my mum’s old office: The Kitchen. And back then, who was telling me to be so giving to a society not governed by Image.

Only when the production teams of Stars with their own mothers and fathers found Fame after new careers that their Teachers never recommended, did strange Manners confuse the rights, role and responsibilities of human beings enough for me to go in search of my soul.

And that was no-one elses.