Pick Me Up! 11-Apr-2019

Walking in the front door, the smell of Mum’s home cooking simply made my mouth water. ‘Good timing!’ Mum grinned, as I shrugged off my coat. ‘Grub’s up!’ ‘Cor,’ I drooled, eyeing the plate of spag bol. ‘Looks yum!’ Tucking in, I couldn’t help laugh at how different things might have been if I hadn’t moved back home. I’d chosen to move back in with Mum in May 2018. I’d tussled with it for ages. After all, I’d first left home when I was 29. But after selling my house in a nearby village, I longed to buy somewhere closer to home. And to save a deposit, that meant moving in with Mum. Bless her, she welcomed me with open arms. Of course, we both worried we might argue, be…

Don’t you think my lovely granddaughter Mia looks beautiful all wrapped up for the park? Carol Adams, Halesowen How lucky was my son Stuart, 31, to get a selfie with Ed Sheeran? Tracey Johnson, Felixstowe Our grandson decided that Granddad should be wrapped up as he was the best present. Deborah Johnston, Stevenage Here is my friend Jo who takes the slogan ‘Always drink sensibly’ very seriously... Anita McWilliam, Kempston Ever since this bundle of joy – Ronnie – came along, he’s been showing us who the real boss is. Adam Bradshaw, Halesowen Here’s me reading my copy of Pick Me Up! just hours after my son Albie was born! Jason Maxey, via e-mail This is Lexie, 2, and she’s so much braver than I am. I think we know…

Send us your stories and photos, including all names and ages, a daytime phone number and full address. E-mailpickmeup@ti-media.com CALL 020 3148 6460 WRITE TO Pick Me Up!, 161 Marsh Wall, London E14 9AP FACEBOOK facebook.com/pickmeupmag SEE OUR WEBSITE lifedeathprizes.com TI Media Limited reserves the right to reuse any submission sent to Pick Me Up! magazine, in any format or medium. Unfortunately, we can’t return photos without a stamped sae. Letters/photos must not be sent to any other publication.…

Sitting on my Uncle Andy’s lap, I felt so special. ‘Now, you can tell your Uncle Andy... Have you kissed any boys?’ he’d tease me. ‘Yuck! No way,’ I said. Still at primary school, boys were grubby and annoying as far as I was concerned! I’d dreamed of my first kiss with a boy from school – not like this ‘That’s what I like to hear,’ Uncle Andy chuckled. ‘You’re so pretty, the boys will soon be all over you.’ I grinned proudly. No-one had ever called me pretty before, but then Uncle Andy always made me feel good about myself. He wasn’t really my uncle, just a friend of the family. He was best mates with my stepdad Jonathan’s Uncle Stuart. And his name wasn’t Andy, either. I’d heard…

Then, just before my 14th birthday, in July 1999, Mum had some terrible news. She had breast cancer and it’d spread to her kidneys and spine. I was traumatised by her illness. A year later, the cancer had spread more. I was devastated. ‘I can’t do this any more,’ I sobbed to Andy one weekend, as he leaned towards me. ‘My mum might die. I just need a friend.’ I started to see his abuse for what it was. It wasn’t my fault For the next few days, Andy was in a sulk, gave me the silent treatment. But then he came round and agreed to stop. Afterwards, we stayed close, but the physical contact stopped. When Mum died in June 2003, Andy travelled to Wales for her funeral. But…

Lounging on the sofa, in front of the telly, I looked down at the pile of chocolate-bar wrappers next to me. Then I checked what time it was. Another hour until Darren comes home, I thought. At least... So I heaved myself up off the sofa and headed to the kitchen for a bag of crisps. It was February 2018, just any other evening for me. My eldest daughter Chloe, 20, was away at uni, while Maisie, 15, and Phoebe, 14, were in their bedrooms. My husband Darren, 49, a carpet fitter, was still at work. But I had all the company I needed in the snack cupboard. Crisps, sweets, chocolate and packets of biscuits. All washed down with a bottle of wine. I ate and ate, yet somehow never…