Warning: This post contains materials of both the soppy and the cheesy (literary) variety.

This is mummy. And me and Biba who the photographer guy apparently tried to take away from me but I refused to let go of until he gave up (hence the suspicious look on my face there). My mum once said that the age I am in this photograph is her favourite age of me because she didn’t need to change me anymore (nappy-wise I mean, not that before this time she had been thinking about returning me to wherever I came from or anything. At least this is what I’m hoping she meant), I could talk so she could have a conversation with me and I would not argue with her when she sat me down and made my hair into pigtails or dressed me in the way she wanted. This was a very short period in both of our lives of course which she cherishes to this day.
Knowing how much she enjoyed that period, these days in my yearly visits to Iran I sometimes give her the freedom to do as she pleases with me, for example last year I let her put Henna in my hair (which was one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life but it was ok because I knew it was making her happy. She is big on putting things in people’s hair, namely me. When I was little her favourites were egg yokes and bone marrow.) or this year I did not interfere when she suddenly decided to have a little play with my right nipple. She only sees me once a year ok? She needs to get a feel of things.
I know that everyone always thinks that their mum is the best mum in the world but I’m afraid you are all wrong because it is actually my mum who is the best mum in the world. I first realised this as a child when I had some sort of weird disease which meant I had to stay in my room for like a week and she would come in and play with me everyday, all day long.

Yesterday mummy made me very happy. She called me up and said, ‘I’ve been reading your blog.’ I usually don’t like it when people do this and a lot of people do this to me as well now days. ‘So I’ve been reading your blog.’ They say and then go quite. I’m not sure what my reply to this should be. The way I see it this is a weird sentence to say to someone and then nothing. But then again I’m very new to this blog business and I don’t know if for example I’m supposed to write the names of all the readers down somewhere and then at the end of the year handout an award to the best reader or what?
But anyway when my mum said this it was different, I could tell she had enjoyed it plus she didn’t go quite after her sentence (she rarely does during our phone conversations) she said about the parts she had liked and what she had liked about them. She even said that she had tried to leave a comment but wasn’t sure how to. So I got very excited and explained to her how she does this (something I later regretted when she told me that the comment she had wanted to leave was about her breastfeeding me)
Then her phone-card finished and she got cut off. Then I phoned her and we had that echo-y thing going on where every time you say something your voice is repeated three times. So we couldn’t carry on with our conversation.
I just wanted to say, thanks mum, you made my day and for the Nth time in my life you made me realise no matter how I’m feeling or what I’m doing, it’s only when I think I have made you and Baba (and now Kamyar as well) pleased, that I feel like I have achieved something.

Umm, now that I’ve said all these nice things about you, do you think it might be a good time to tell you something that is a little bit upsetting?
Here it goes. The cheese you sent me did not travel too well. I’m sorry. We did all that we could for it but it just insisted on going straight from the parcel into the bin.
On the plus side I have been nominated for the Smelliest Parcels Awards by our postman, Derek. It’s me against an Italian guy in Manchester who receives parcels containing freshly made salamis from his village in Italy and an Indian girl in London whose mother sends her Chicken Tikka Masala warps from Calcutta.
I’m really not that hopeful but Derek thinks I’m in with a good chance. Fingers crossed.