Mum died yesterday morning at eight o'clock. She was 91.

She'd been ill for ages and was suffering, so what my sister and I feel more than anything else is relief. I'm pretty sure that goes for the rest of the family, too.

Can't sleep. Got up at 5.00 a.m. and I've been sitting here jotting down a few notes for her funeral. Things I liked about her, things I didn't. Here's some of the good stuff.

A Few Things I Liked About My Mum

* The fact that she once phoned my dad from a police station at midnight to say she'd been arrested for being with a bunch of drunken rock musicians in the back of a transit van. She was 83 at the time.

* The fact that watching snooker on TV gave her an orgasm.

* The fact that she gave me a love of the English language by teaching me - at a very early age - wonderful poetry, such as:

Have you ever seen Nelly make water?
She pees such a beautiful stream.
She pees for three miles and a quarter,
And you can't see her belly for steam.

Ah, well. Life, eh?

Looks like my mother is dying. Chest infection, urinary infection, life infection. The past few days have been a jumble of hospital visits, telephone calls, family pain... horrible. I'm home until Friday, unless I get a call to come back sooner.

I want this to be over, and I know mum would want that, too.

Managed to get the Mathew Prichard story completed and posted. Struggled a bit with this one. They never slide out easily, but some give more trouble than others.

My mother is in hospital again, so I'll be away from home this weekend visiting her. Also going to visit Rosie Hardman, a singer I haven't seen for about twenty-five years. Met up via the internet (what a tool it is for reconnecting people) and she's got a CD of her old stuff for me.

It seems the few comments I made over on Diary Land have vanished. Oh well.

I read an article in The Guardian a few days ago and discovered the BlogSpot - so I'll fiddle about here for a while and perhaps try to add regular entries.

Trying to complete a story for The Mathew Prichard award. Not going very well. Guess I'd better get back to it.