My mum - 93 today

Ninety-three years ago to the day, on May 24 1923, Mary Casson was born in Tinsley, Sheffield. Mary Casson, married name, Mary Brothers, is my mum. She is 93 today.

Over the years I have heard my female friends complain about their mothers - me, I have no cause for complaint. Women fríends relate stories of how their mothers made them feel inadequate, immature and even, at times, unloved.

Not mine. She is the embodiment of kindness  - generous to a fault. She is also selfless, unassuming, sweet-natured and witty She never puts anyone down, but always finds something good to say about everybody.

If all this sounds too good to be true, then there is nothing I can do to change it. She is as described.

Christmas just gone was difficult - she seemed to be unable to control her arms and legs resulting in strange jerky movements. The doctors wanted to keep her in hospital overnight so she stayed, albeit reluctantly. Despite various scans and investigations, nothing was found that was untoward and so the following afternoon my brother and I brought her home. Apart from feeling a little more tired than usual, for a while, since the blip at Christmas, she seems fine.

She tells me that, ' It can't be long now.' Well, she is in advanced old age, but, I would not be in the least surprised if she carried on for a few more years yet. When the time does come, I hope she dies peacefully in her sleep, or, she has someone with her to provide solace at the end of her long life.

Every now and then, she tells me, 'Oh, Ruth, before I forget, there's a hundred pounds in that vase - and in the cupboard where I keep the cereal boxes, there's an empty box with five hundred pounds in it.' Such are the vagaries of old age and, I'm sure, the long term effects of having lived through a war.

I often think to myself how lucky I am to have a mum like her. Today, especially, on her 93rd birthday, I thank my lucky stars that she is my mum and that she has been beside me for so long.