I have spent the week listening to the thumping and banging of workmen. Shuffling through the grime and dust that they create. I had expected them to be gone by yesterday. My mother, always eager to help despite her inability to do so very much, had already decided that she would come in today to help me clean up.

I phoned to say that they were still here, that was ok she would come in anyway. Who was I to argue?

Whilst she didn't help me fold the sheets, or clean down and re-load the book case. Whilst she didn't make the soup for lunch or set the table or empty the dishwasher. Whilst she didn't make the boys their endless cups of tea Missus... She did sit, and watch, and relax. She enjoyed the company of her grandchildren and catching up with their lives. She enjoyed the stroll into the local town and a shufty roond the shops.

Always she is delighted that her children live in Morningside. Always she recalls how her Granny would talk of they big hooses being aw fur coat and nae knickers. Always she leaves us with a smile on her face. And who, with her knickers tightly covering her modesty, am I to argue with a good days work.

I have blipped my mother before. On looking back it is clear to see the pain easing from her face, the stress levels almost obliterated and that smile creeping back in.