Snapshot: Mam, Madonna and the coconut

This is the story of Mam’s death. She died on 18 November 2008 and this story has been going around in my head ever since. My mam, Hannah – Happy H, as my husband called her – was 86 when she died. She had a long and good life, much of which I know nothing about. I suspect there are some bits I am better off not knowing – she had a sense of adventure not necessarily expected of someone born in 1922.

My mam decided to give up her own home and move into a care home, thinking it would give her a new lease of life. It didn’t. She was in the home for about eight weeks before she died. I think she knew straight away that it was a mistake, but she wouldn’t admit it. She did need help. After more than 60 years of smoking, she was ill with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, and in a wheelchair. The people at the home were kind and caring, and they made her feel safe, which she didn’t when she was living on her own.

The things she said to me in those last weeks were very typically my mam, not mushy and sentimental but funny and daft as she always had been. Which brings me to the coconut.

About a week or so before she died, she told me about a visit she had had during the night. Madonna had visited and brought her a coconut. Mam’s room faced on to a church, at the front of which was a statue of Our Lady. I thought she was talking about Our Lady and said so. “No,” Mam said, “I mean Madonna, you know – Like a Virgin.”

It was, of course, a dream but we spent a good half hour discussing why a coconut – Mam didn’t like them. So, what was going round in her mind in those last few weeks after all of the experiences she had in life that she dreamed about a coconut from Madonna? I’ll never know until I get to heaven and see her again.

Margaret Coates

Playlist: Flat tyres, flowers and falling in love again

The Second Time Around by Frank Sinatra

“Love is lovelier the second time around / Just as wonderful with both feet on the ground”

When I heard this song many years ago, I could not have foreseen what those lyrics would one day mean for me. When I got married, I thought it would be for ever. Sadly, I became a statistic – divorced after more than 20 years. After much deliberation, I signed up with an online dating site. I met a number of men, although no one special. But it was good to get out there again and my confidence began to grow.

One evening, I had arranged to meet a man called Alan. As I drove into town, I felt there was something wrong with my car, but carried on. “Your tyre is flat,” were his first words. I was about to call the breakdown people when a stranger appeared, offering to change my tyre. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work. I thanked him profusely and, when he had finished, Alan and I walked to the nearby pub where we drank some wine and laughed a lot. I really liked the way his eyes crinkled up when he laughed.

I was delighted when Alan asked me out again. On our second date, he greeted me with flowers. Then he confessed that they had been his daughter’s idea. When he told her that he had met “a very nice woman”, she said, “Have you said you’re still married? No? Then take her some flowers and tell her.”

This shocked me. “Technically, I’m still married, but we haven’t lived together for at least 10 years,” said Alan. Calming down, I thought: he seems a nice man. I’m not involved, so why not carry on for a while? So we did – for more than a year – enjoying each other’s company more and more. Then one day, he said, “I’m going to ask my wife for a divorce. I want us to live together and it wouldn’t be fair to expect you to live with a married man.”

That was almost 11 years ago. We’ve since bought a new house – leaving the past behind and starting afresh as a couple. This is definitely our song. It is almost as if it were written with us in mind: “Who can say what brought us to this miracle we’ve found? There are those who’ll bet love comes but once, and yet – I’m oh, so glad we met the second time around.”

Mari Zipes Wallace

We love to eat: Mother Paul’s mushroom slop

Ingredients
Pasta
1 medium onion
Oil for frying
8 to 10 mushrooms, sliced
A tin of mushroom soup
Salt and lots of pepper
A little cheese (any sort you like)

I know the name is a little off-putting but it is so-called because you need a big spoon to “slop” this pasta out of the pan. Cook the pasta according to the packet instructions. While it is cooking, chop the onion and fry in oil until it is slightly transparent. Add the sliced mushrooms and continue frying until the mushrooms are cooked, adding a little salt and pepper. Once the mushrooms are cooked, add in the soup, stirring thoroughly. I’d add more pepper – but that’s optional. Drain the pasta and add to the sauce. Grate the cheese into the pan or add to the dish when you serve it. If you can’t bear to go without meat, do what my husband does and fry some bacon until it is crispy, then chop it up and sprinkle on top. 

 When I left my family home and had a new family of friends, I recall heady days of continual laughter, late nights out dancing and hangovers from hell. We made up this recipe after a housemate had been to dinner at the home of a lovely transvestite. Mother Paul (think older Lily Savage with not so big hair) loved to look after all the young recently out-of-the-closet men and had made pasta using chicken soup. As I’m a vegetarian, we adapted it with mushroom soup.

This dish has served me well over the years and I have made it into a pasta bake, too – covering it in cheese and sticking it under the grill. There is something soothing about pasta and soup – comfort food at its best.  These days, this dish feeds kids rather than hangovers. It still works a treat, though. 

Meena Lee