I was making the children’s sandwiches whilst sniffing the daffodils in a vase on the kitchen worktop the other day.

“Ooof, that smell takes me right back to childhood and Mother’s Day in the church in Didsbury. The church would have a load of daffs delivered, and the kids could go to the front and get a bunch from the vicar while the organist played something like All Things Bright and Beautiful. Then the kids would give them to their mums, or someone else’s mum, or someone who wasn’t a mum or whoever. It was lovely.”

Now Darren, who has been cooking on the other side of the kitchen and ever the politician, made me laugh out loud because he said, “Who paid for them?”

“I don’t know,” I answered back. “It was just a dead nice thing. I didn’t analyse the cost price and logistics and whether the money would have been better spent on disabled kids’ charities or a new roof. I just gave the old ladies bunches of daffodils. It was just a kind thing. There are, I’m sure, better things but that doesn’t make this kind thing a bad thing. Does there need to be a hierarchy of kindness when it’s just a bunch of free daffs? They weren’t even the same quantity of daffodils as you’d get in a bunch of daffs for a pound 40 years later in the shop.”

I went quiet and realised I’d started to analyse the cost price and logistics. I exhaled the gorgeous scent, moved away and then breathed the normal air in again and carried on making the lunchboxes for the kids. Sandwich, yoghurt, crisps and a banana, with an additional hidden KitKat for the child who does loads of exercise and an additional apple for the child who doesn’t.  

It's Mother’s Day next weekend. We put a banner on the website and we tell you what I’ve been up to in this email. That’ll do. I know it’s a difficult time for some. If you did want anything from the website this week, whether it’s for yourself or someone else, then please use the code SPRING24 and you’ll get a 20% discount on your purchase, including favourites such as our brushed cotton pyjamas.

March 03, 2024 — Deborah Price