Becks
Well, neither did I! But that was mostly because I was messing around with you. But since we don’t know how long the Magna Carta is, let’s go for a modern reference. The Good Friday Agreement or something.
Niamh
I’ve no idea how long that actually is either, if I’m being honest.
Becks
Thirty pages or so. I think. From memory. Do you think she is writing thirty pages? It’s taking long enough.
Niamh
Don’t fret. You know Conal. It will be fine. You could ask him, you know?
Becks
But I’m scared!
Niamh
I know. But it’s Conal. He loves you. I’d put money on it – and I’m not normally a gambling kind.
Becks
What the fudge is she typing? It’s taking forever!
Niamh
Fudged if I know.
I click back into the original conversation and it appears Laura is no longer typing. Nor has anything been posted. What on earth is going on? Is it possible that Laura is now annoyed at me too? Have I just made things worse? The sinking feeling that has been coming and going all day settles deep into the pit of my stomach and gets comfortable as if it is in for the long haul. I can feel it pulling up a metaphorical chair and wrapping itself in a big blanket of my stomach acid. And there is no Gaviscon strong enough to tackle this particular bout of indigestion. I’m worried that if I message Laura again to push for a response, I might come across as too emotionally needy and desperate. Not that I’m sure there is an acceptable level of emotional neediness.
This situation is a giant balls.
I’m about to allow myself to sink into the very pits of depressionwhen my screen lights up with a new message. This time from Saul – the elder of my twin sons – who is currently in Manchester. Glancing at my watch, I see that it is almost ten – and messages that arrive from Saul at this time are usually fuelled by copious pints of Guinness.
I love my son right down to his very bones. Along with his brother, he is the love of my life. But I am having a romantic crisis here and the last thing – the absolutely very last thing – I am able for right now is some drunken philosophising with an inebriated student.
Still, I can’t possibly take the chance of ignoring his message by pretending to be asleep. Everyone knows that the patron saint of mammies with children at university will smite me if I do. It will be the one occasion where there actually, genuinely is a proper crisis and not just one of the existential variety over the state of world politics, or the socio-economic difficulties facing the young generation. Or whether or not the all-Ireland battle for supremacy between Northern Tayto and Southern Tayto could be the real barrier to unification.
A quick glance at my screen reveals something altogether different, however.
MUM!!! DID YOU KNOW GRANNY IS ON TIKTOK????
Below he has posted a link to an account with the username @TwoOulDolls and I genuinely don’t know whether to be horrified or impressed – so I think my poor, frazzled nervous system settles on a combination of both. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to click on the link so I take a moment to just stare at it and watch it like it’s an unexploded time bomb.
A second message from Saul lands.
MUM!!! Seriously though. She’s kind of a legend. Go Granny! Didn’t know she had it in her!
Okay, so now I suppose I really do have to look. Isn’t it funny how just minutes before I was in a state of panic over my relationship potential imploding and a possible new ice age between Laura and me, and now I get to worry about my mother being ‘kind of a legend’ on TikTok.
My father, if he were still alive, would find this exceptionally funny. I’m not quite there yet. I tap a message back to Saul telling him that, for my sins, I will watch it and then I’ll get back to him.
Taking a deep breath, I click on the link and wait for the app to open and buffer through to the right video.
Dear God… the thumbnail is of my mother looking horrified as Jimmy the security man tries to drag her away from the section of Asda reserved for the big pants kind of lingerie. No delicate little lacy wisps of fabric here – just my mother in front of the (admittedly very comfortable) belly-warming full briefs in plain white cotton.
