Page 22 of The Happiness Project

‘I hope you’re going to teach me them too.’ Bob seems far less scared of my mother than his wife.

As we eat, conversation turns to how well we’re doing and how Mum was outstanding at the anagrams.

‘I think I’m just very visual,’ she tells everyone with such self-assurance that for a moment I wonder if she’s been taking lessons from Patty. ‘I always get the answers on Catchphrase — you know, that “say what you see” quiz.’

She takes a bite of quiche then turns to me mid-mouthful; her eyes are wide open and I know from her expression she’s just had one of her ideas but can’t speak until she’s finished eating. I pause, waiting for her just in case this good idea causes me to choke.

‘I’ve had an idea,’ she declares after swallowing. ‘I need to add something else to my bucket list.’

Given what’s already on it, I’m dreading this and really wish she weren’t telling me with everyone else hanging on her words, dying to hear what it is.

‘I need to be on a quiz show,’ she says. ‘On telly, if you can swing it. Preferably Catchphrase but anything that works with my skills.’

‘Oh, I’d love to see you on TV,’ says Yvonne, getting a look of horror from Zoe, Dad and me. She hasn’t learned yet that Mum needs no encouragement.

‘How about Pointless?’ says Bob, getting a grimace from Mum.

‘No thanks,’ she says, ‘the clue’s in the name.’

I explain that there are usually long waiting lists and auditions to get on quiz shows but say that I will look into it; there’s no way of stopping this conversation if I don’t.

‘So what else is on your bucket list?’ asks Yvonne.

Another topic I’d really rather avoid right now; I look up at Dad to see if there’s any indication that he knows what’s on the list.

‘Well, she’s already been out with a group of Hell’s Angels,’ he tells the table with an affectionate look over at Mum. ‘Leathers, biker bar and all.’

He gets out his phone and shows them the picture I took of Mum with her Viking companion. James and his parents are quite in awe so I explain the circumstances.

‘And I’m going to learn to waltz,’ says Mum.

‘Oh, that sounds beautiful,’ Yvonne says. ‘I’d love to do that.’

Never missing an opportunity to sell the Mercury Travel Club, I leap in and tell them I’m trying to organise a trip to Vienna for the full dance experience. I’m delighted when James’s parents ask for the details when they’re available and mentally clock up two more places sold.

‘This sounds a great list,’ continues Bob. ‘What else is on it?’

I have no idea whether she’ll tell everyone about the affair but I really can’t risk it in front of Dad.

‘Why don’t you just leave it as a surprise, Mum?’ I suggest with more than a hint of desperation in my voice. ‘That way you can astound people when they happen.’

She thinks about it and decides I’m right so moves the conversation on to where you can get the best pensioner special meals, and by the sounds of it, Yvonne and Bob have a lot of knowledge to share.

I ask Dad to help me get some drinks from the bar, and as we’re standing waiting to be served, I ask him if Mum has now told him what’s on her list.

‘She hasn’t,’ he replies, ‘but knowing her it’ll be something a bit different.’

I feel guilty betraying Mum’s secret but really think my father should know. I open my mouth to tell him but he quickly puts his finger to his lips.

‘It’s your mum’s list and I don’t mind if it’s a bit crazy,’ he says. ‘Relax and enjoy the ride — I’m going to.’

He winks at me, picks up the round of drinks and starts walking back to the table. As I watch him go, I’m coming to the conclusion that I really am the most conservative member of my family and an awful thought flits across my brain — did Michael stand me up because I’m actually really boring?

Chapter Twelve: Boomers on Tour

‘Do you think I’m boring?’ I ask Patty the following evening.

I’m sitting on her bed while she finishes her make-up then gathers together some stage clothes; the Granny-Okies have an audition later and I’m going with them so I don’t sit in the house fretting about why Michael didn’t turn up. I’ll fret in some draughty theatre instead.

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