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There was a special time. I arrived back from school and my mum would be ironing in our breakfast room. It seemed like every day... but with four boys plus dad, all seemingly incapable of ironing, maybe inevitable...

This was when we chatted. Ironing time. Forced to leave school at 14 to serve in her father’s greengrocery, my mum was bright, witty and wise. I remember asking her early on “How do you know what’s doing right and what’s wrong?”

“Doing wrong is what you wouldn’t be happy telling your mum about!” she replied.

Goddit! My moral compass. Thanks mum!

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