I always thought if I were to write my autobiography, I'd call it either, "What Katie Really Did" or "Confessions of a Kirkby Girl", but as the Euros and Wimbledon dominate my TV, it's made me think about my mum a lot, so I think I might call it, "My Mum, John McEnroe, Billy Bremner and Me"
Growing up in the Trinder household, my mum was always the sports mad one. On a Saturday afternoon, her favourite thing to do was go in the bath and listen to the Nottingham Forest football commentary on the radio.
One Christmas, me and my sister Lucy bought her a little battery operated radio and I think it was the best thing we ever got her. She could listen to the radio in the bathroom without fear of electrocuting herself!
Coming from the bathroom, on a Saturday, we'd hear cheers if they scored, or shouts of "oh shit", if Forest conceded. Depending on the result, she'd emerge from the bathroom blaming Billy Bremner for everything that has ever gone wrong in the world, or saying this was probably the best team Forest had, had since their European Cup Winners days.
My mum had a long-term grudge against Billy Bremner, I asked her about it once and the general gist was he'd broken the leg of her favourite Forest player during the 60's and my mum had never forgiven him. My mum could hold a grudge in a way that even the Mafia would have felt was a bit too harsh.
When things got more financially stable, mum and dad had a season ticket for Forest and holidays and days out were planned according to the fixture list. Going to the City Ground on a Saturday filled my mum full of joy.
My mum's love of football was mainly confined to Saturday afternoons, the odd Tuesday and Friday nights and whenever England played.
In fact some of the last text messages I have from her are during England's game against Germany in the 2010 World Cup, as you can see she was far from happy.... it was probably all Billy Bremner's fault.
Her other big sporting love was Wimbledon and from the moment we heard "der der der der der der der" and the dulcet tones of Sue Barker, we knew we'd lost mum to SW19.
For two weeks, she would schedule any work commitments, appointments or housework for the morning and from 1 o'clock, she would take residence on the sofa with a pot of Earl Grey, a scone and strawberries and watch every hit of the ball.
She absolutely loved it.
As children, Lucy and I would be very aware that when Wimbledon was on, the chances of getting to watch anything we wanted on the TV were slim to none and dinner was sandwiches, unless rain stopped play, then we stood a chance of getting something that was cooked in the oven.
There was something about Wimbledon that my mum didn't like and that was John McEnroe, I don't remember her disliking him as a player, but as a commentator, he was firmly in the same bracket as Billy Bremner. Had my mum been alive during Lockdown, COVID would have been Billy Bremner and John McEnroe's fault!
Every year without fail, she would phone the BBC to complain about him, normally if he'd said something againt one of the players that she liked - occasionally she would phone multiple times.
When dad would get home from work, he'd say "what's happened at Wimbledon?" and Lucy and I would say "mum phoned the BBC to complain about John McEnroe again."
Dad would say "I don't know why you bother Pamela, it won't make any difference."
And mum would argue that she thought John McEnroe was a pratt and shouldn't be allowed to say horrible things about Tim Henman and that she probably wasn't the only one who'd complained.
It became a long-standing family joke.
The first Wimbledon after mum died, half of me wanted to phone the BBC to complain about John McEnroe on my mum's behalf.
Even now when Lucy and I sit down to watch the tournament, we joke about who's going to make the phone call, me or her.
Whilst I don't watch nearly as much Wimbledon as mum, I try and watch what I can as it always makes me smile and feel close to my mum.
Mum did get to go to Wimbledon a couple of times, including once when she won tickets in a competition for the Ladies semi-finals. The prize included a champagne lunch, which dad said mum barely touched because she was so excited to be on centre court and savour every moment.
A couple of years after she died, dad came out of the drawer for Wimbledon tickets and as Lucy had already been, he took me. We had the best time together and I'm glad I got to go with my dad somewhere that my mum loved so much.
My parents were quite young when they died, my mum was 62 and my dad 67 and there was a lot of things they still wanted to do, places they wanted to visit. Don't get me wrong, they managed to experience a lot of things in their lives, and I'm so pleased they got to do the things they did, but they should have had longer to do more things.
Mum would have been beside herself with joy to see Nottingham Forest in the Premiership and she'd probably have had Wimbledon on the TV, iPad and Laptop so she could enjoy multiple matches at once.
Hopefully I have a lot of pages of My Mum, John McEnroe, Billy Bremner and Me" left to fill, so I intend to fill them full of adventures and shenanigans.
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