Mama Mia!

Posted by Lara Masters at 16:49 on 1 Feb 2010

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My blog is very personal. This statement is of course a euphemism for "it's all about me".  Me me me. Me me me me me.  And if anyone else gets a look in, I soon find a way to bring it back to my previous point i.e.; me. But today's blog is quite exceptional because I am dedicating it to my Mum. (Don't worry she's not dead.)

Now, I do not usually talk about my Mum because then I would not be talking about me. However, without my Mum, there would be no me and no blog about me and you would not have be enjoying my witty vignettes and cyber-pearls of blog wisdom and would probably be idling your time away watching cats falling off things on YouTube right now, so it's clear how important my Mum is to all our lives.

However, this is no sycophantic, vom-making, Hallmark card ode blog to my Mum, oh no. I'm fully aware my Mum has flaws - she doesn't know how to copy and paste so I have to send her my blog separately without the hyper-link removed, and once I left her voice messages all day but heard nothing back because she had put her mobile in the fridge and half a lemon in her bag on her way to work and of course lemons do not have voicemail. But these idiosyncrasies only make her more extraordinary as imagine creating a world-renowned dance and fashion Empire without even the most basic PC skills and at times a citrus fruit for a mobile? And yet this is exactly what my Mum has done.

If you haven't already guessed, my Mum is Debbie Moore, founder of Pineapple Dance Studios (which just celebrated its 30th birthday) and designer of pandemic street fashion label Pineapple. And if this was not enough, she has now bagged herself, not a lemon, but an OBE (for services to Business, Dance and Charity) and from henceforth shall be known as Mum OBE - or MOBE (pronounced "Moby").

Next week, we are to visit the Queen for the receiving of said honour! If my Wikipedia skills serve me well, my Mum will be an Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire but will not be expected to command actual armies (not quite the same thing as dance troupes although the world would be a more peaceful place with soldiers having dance-offs to settle conflicts, perhaps I should recommend this whilst I've got our monarch's ear?)

Mum gets a cross on a ribbon showing she is a member of the Order and can then purchase a matching lapel pin for £15 from the royal shop if she wishes. Perhaps I will buy some royal Smarties? Will they all be blue? Will we be allowed to use the royal loo? Will the loo paper be embossed with ER II? If I pocket a piece will I be beheaded? This is the kind of royal tiz one is thrown into at the prospect of popping over to the palace.

And then of course there's the question of what to wear to such an illustrious occasion? Mum has told me rather firmly "no skulls" which rules out a large section of my wardrobe and accessories plus there is an imposing glittering silver skull on the back of my wheelchair. Hmmmm. I'm presuming guns and spiders are also a no-no as far as motifs go but hoping a corset will be seen as an homage to the Golden Age of Elizabeth rather than a stripper/escort.

And there I go yabbering on about yours truly again. Getting back to the point; my Mum OBE - when life gives her lemons she puts them in her bag and refrigerates her mobile. Even the Queen agrees, my Mum quite literally rules.

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