Finally, I love my mother

Rose Rouse has written a series of pieces on her relationship with her mother. This one charts earlier changes when they were still walking together.

It never used to happen like this. I’d arrive home – my former family home, a detached 1970s house in the West Yorkshire village of Menston, not far from the quietly salubrious and much better known inclines of Ilkley – immediately my mother and I would have to jump in the car (one of my eternal old bangers) and travel to a town.

Were we trying to avoid …