Chinese Mothers

A few days after I was home, my mother regaled me with a year's worth of stories of the latest gossip from her life, how my doggie poo dug up the garden, new marriages, newborn babies, broken marriages and so on and so forth. I politely listened while reading a book piping in questions at strategic points so that she could rant on further, as all mothers do.

That Sunday at church, she pushed to almost every single member asking me to smile and greet them, familiar faces and the new. The cat smelled curiousity when she anxiously introduced me to a new family, Uncle Robert, and his son Ronald who was about my age, currently studying medicine in Melbourne, Australia, and who is "a nice boy".

Later on in the evening, over a game of scrabble, my father also casually mentioned this chap and how he is "a nice boy". He then later bluntly asked if we needed to be set up, or if we could exchange e-mails or something, because that would make mummy happy.

My mother still denies any intentions on her part. Albeit very feebly.