Twiggy was on “Who Do You Think You Are” last night, and was talking about how her Mum had problems with her “nerves”. Which is olde worlde speak for an assortment of mental disorders, something that folk didn’t talk about back then.
Which, naturally enough, got me thinking about my Mum and her family. Before she was married, my Mum spent some time in the hospital with her “nerves”, as had her mother before her. In fact, I’ve got a letter somewhere from my Granny to my Mum asking her to bring some bits and pieces from home while she was in the hospital.
My Mum was never hospitalised after she was married, although I remember many instances of ups and doons, and she was peculiar, to say the least, until the day she died. Of course, any mentalism she had was overshadowed by the arch mentalist in the family, my Aunt Bette, my Mums sister.
As mentioned before, Bette was actually sectioned when she lived with us in the late seventies, and your official white van came to cart her away to Craighouse. Although the van was actually grey, fact fans. Suffice to say, the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree in my case, not helped by my Dads family having its own share of nutters, including my Gran, who never learnt my name, despite me being forced to stay with her every Saturday night from the ages of 4 to 9.
And they wonder why I ended up the way I am!