Spring is in the air. Birds are singing, flowers are flowering, other things are doing whatever it is they do in spring. All this can only mean one thing – mother’s day.
Rupert’s mother has made the arduous trip down from Somerset to see her beloved son. This merits a card at least, so it’s off to the local shop for Rupert. There’s a card with “Mother” in large type so that must be it, there’s some other writing but without his glasses it’s far too small to read.
When he gets the card home and reads it properly, it turns out that the tiny writing says “Happy Birthday”. What idiot would put cards with the word “mother” on display on mothering Sunday that were notmothering Sunday cards? Busy people don’t have time to read every word on a card!
This is the moment when Rupert’s native wit and cunning come into play. No need to waste money on a new card, just stick a post it note over the word ‘birthday’ and scrawl in ‘mothers day’! It is, as they say, the thought that counts.
