THE BASKET-TEA SOLUTION

"So what time is your gig then?" asked my Mum.

"I've got to be there at 7:30," I said, without really thinking.

"Oh! So you'll be able to come to the baby shower after all!" she beamed, "We'll be back here by half past five."

"Hooray," I said, with a little less beam.

"Your sister will be thrilled," smiled my Mum.

This then, was the basket-tea solution to the basket-tea problem - actually going. It occurred to me in the car, that the best strategy was probably not to try to be funny, clever or sweet, or in fact, anything, but to keep as quiet and as unmoved as possible - something which I planned to achieve with a cup of tea and a piece of cake.

My Mum was right - my sister was glad to have me there, I think. Her friends, probably not so much, but on this occasion, I didn't really care about that. Anything too 'detailed' was banned from conversation anyway, though I think things got pretty close.

"So I did go into Mothercare but I had to come out again. There are things in there I didn't want to think about," said someone.

Me neither, I thought, from the corner, though I couldn't help wonder what on Earth she meant. There was a lot of 'Aww cute' and someone had fashioned a towel-nappy-cake into an owl, but apart from that there was none of the silliness - no games, no talk of stitches, epidurals or mid-natal defecation. Even my Mum resisted telling stories of how we were all born. It really was more of a basket-tea than a hen-house cluck-fest.

There were things I didn't understand though. At one point, my sister opened a packet of Prosecco-flavoured wine gums and everybody laughed. Then, she opened a car air-freshener with the words 'Family Taxi' written on it and everybody roared again. I'm not going to say anything, I thought, but that's just not that funny.

"Let me know when things are moving and happening," said one of my sister's friends as she left, "We can pray and send... ooh... happy thoughts your way!"

A little later as my Mum got her coat on, I turned to my sister in the hallway and said,

"Hey, I'm fine with not knowing when things are moving and happening when the time comes. Moved and happened is fine with me."

She laughed.

"Come on then, Jimper," said my Mum, "Let's get you home in time for your gig."

Mums will always be mums, won't they?