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Mother Knows Best

June 27, 2017

I’ve just spoken to my mother. She’s in a fabulous mood. Very happy. She laughed sweetly. It was a tinkle.

What’s up, I asked.

‘Everything’s all right because New Zealand has won the America’s Cup,’ she said. Another tinkle of a laugh.

When did they win? I asked.

‘Just now, you Wally.’

For the past few weeks Mum has been getting up at 4am and driving herself crazy by watching the yacht races. ‘New Zealand has only one boat,’ she told me. ‘The Americans (Oracle) have four. An unlimited budget!’ She hated the commentators. ‘I have to turn the sound off when they talk about the New Zealand team. They say a lot of bullshit about us.’ She hated the way the competition was rigged. ‘They keep changing the rules, the bastards.’ She hated the way the opponents kept copying Team NZ’s innovations. ‘We put cyclists on board so the Americans had to copy us. Ha, it didn’t last.’ She hated the way the Oracle captain bragged all the time. ‘He’s a wanker. A bloody Australian.’

Last week my sister watched one of the races with Mum. She found it terribly stressful. Mid-race, she stood up and began to pace. This and the fact she dared say something about Team New Zealand drove my mother wild. ‘Just sit down and zip it!’ she scolded. ‘You don’t know what you’re bloody talking about. Team New Zealand is the best.’

Is my mother ever wrong? No, she is not.

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