The Harbour Bridge
August 7, 2019
Today I drove over the Harbour Bridge (and drove back via the scary undersea Sydney Harbour Tunnel). Pleased with myself, I called my mother to share the good news. As many of you know, Marion is a peach. She’s a comfort in times of difficulty and doubt.
‘And?’ she said.
I explained how the drive was quite tricky. Lots of traffic. Certainly not a walk in the park.
‘You’re always going on about how difficult driving is,’ she said. ‘You’ve just got to do it every day. Get out there every day!’
I reminded her that she’s always going on about how difficult it is to get her washing dry.
‘I do not,’ she replied.
She does so. Ask anyone who knows Marion. Washing and weather are hot topics.
‘You’ve got to get out there every day,’ she repeated, in a louder voice this time for the benefit of my brother and sister-in-law who were with her.
But, I protested, I have been driving every day. Mum laughed and it wasn’t until I got off the phone that I realised I’d been played. I should have kept on topic, washing wise, and pushed my advantage home. Instead I did what I’ve always done. I defended myself. This is why I never argue with my mother. She’s always right even when she might — very occasionally — be wrong, or at least not quite so right.