Life lessons on Mother’s Day: what we have learned from our mums | Letters

Letters Life lessons on Mother’s Day: what we have learned from our mums Readers recall advice from their mothers – and fathers – on navigating the world I so enjoyed Tim Dowling’s article on advice from his mother ( My mother’s best advice: learn to raise one eyebrow at the world, 11 March ). My own mother died in October and, while she never gave me any advice about facial expressions, she certainly taught me the importance of seeing the absurd in the world around us and to take pleasure in that, but without mocking, criticising or belittling. A metaphorical raise of the eyebrow, if you will, and something that I still reflect on. David Nancarrow Marlborough, Wiltshire Regarding words of wisdom from mothers , a friend’s mum taught her to recite the mantra “Bus pass, dinner money, homework, handkerchief” whenever she left the house to go to school. It still applies in principle. The first two have been replaced by a phone and credit card, the third by reading specs. But the necessity of a simple handkerchief has stood the test of time. Thank you, Mrs Moss. Caroline Alexander Sevenoaks, Kent In addition to the strong maternal advice reported by your readers ( Letters, 12 March ), bad luck is caused by letting knife blades cross on the table, putting new shoes on the table, and ascenders and descenders crossing on the stairs. Navigating life – phew! Jonathan Hauxwell Crosshills, North Yorkshire I doubt if my wife was given advice by her mother about airing her underwear ( Letters, 11 March ). I do know that both our mothers were not pleased with our choice of partners, partly because they knew we were going to become members of the clergy as Salvation Army officers. We are glad we were not put off and, like Felicity Randall, celebrated our 60th anniversary this year. Bob George Tiverton, Devon Congratulations to Felicity Randall on her special anniversary, demonstrating that mother’s advice isn’t always best. It brought back a funny memory. On leaving the house, my m...