My mum would have been 90 today. She was born in Nottingham in 1917 and died ten years ago - the same night that Princess Diana was killed in the car crash.

She spent her younger days in London where, despite wanting to be a teacher, she had to leave school at 15 and take a job cutting dress material for five shillings (25p) a week.

Mum never said a great deal about her lovelife but I gather she had lots of friends and enjoyed 'tea dances' and evenings out.

She married three times:

First was my father, during the war (and on the rebound from the breakup of her relationship with the man who was to become my stepfather). My dad was in the Navy and lived up to the sailors' reputation of 'a girl in every port' (or maybe it was a girl in every street) and while I was still a baby he was thrown out. Apparently we saw him on a London bus when I was a toddler - he was the conductor - but mum didn't tell me till we got off and I don't remember what he was like apart from the photos she kept..

Mum and I always lived with her parents and, although we were far from well off, they spoiled me. We all moved to Norwich in 1948 and Mum worked at a nearby grocers' shop during the day and at the dog racetrack some evenings. When she went out on her nights off she would come and tuck me up and I'd admire her dress and say she looked like a fairy princess.

She met her first love again, thanks to her brother.They both waited (years) for their divorces and then they married ( I was 12) and started up in business together. Pop (as I called my stepfather) ran an electrical shop and Mum had a hardware department adjacent to it. We lived in the flat above.

My sister was born a year later and Mum nearly died from complications involving heavy haemorraging. (Perhaps they left part of the afterbirth behind??) I don't think she ever understood what was wrong herself. 

It was when my sister was taking her 11 plus that Pop became ill. The doctor treated him for flu but eventually they discovered he had serious kidney problems. He carried on working for some years but they retired early and Mum looked after him as his kidneys got worse and he had to have dialysis three times a week.

Then she discovered she had breast cancer. Fortunately they were able to operate and it was successful.

Pop died one day whilst on dialysis and, after a period of mourning we all thought Mum should 'live' a little.

She was pretty fit for her 75 years and we had some  good outings and holidays but she was afraid of being lonely. I had hoped to build her a bungalow in our garden but Bear wouldn't hear of it. He even got cross because she always came for lunch on Sundays.

Mum didn't want to 'be a burden' and looked for other friends. She even tried the 'Lonely Hearts' column in the local paper and went out with one or two pleasant (and rich) chaps.

Then she met Ned. He seemed nice enough - in fact he reminded me of my grandad -  but he turned out to be a nasty piece of work. He moved in with her and they got married on her 78th birthday.

On her wedding day she seemed quiet rather than excited but I put it down to nervousness.

Bear and I took them on 'honeymoon' to our haunts in the Ardennes. It turned out that Ned was an even more fussy eater than Bear and we couldn't even have a meal in a restaurant. Can you imagine living on picnics of bread, ham and cheese in unseasonably cool and windy weather for July when you could be tucking in to real French cuisine?

After several months  Mum admitted that he was 'a bit too demanding' and she was not happy. Despite their ups and downs she missed Pop.

Then her cancer returned with a vengeance. It was obvious she didn't want Ned to look after her as she always wanted my sister or me to be there for her.

When the cancer attacked her bones and stomach there was nothing they could do.

She spent her last few weeks in hospital and for the last ten days she hardly knew we were there. My sister and I took turns to sit with her through the night and I was with her when she died. It was a shock but I felt more relief than grief and a kind of numbness kicked in until well after the funeral.

It was ages before I was able to cry. For many months  I found myself thinking "Oh, I haven't phoned Mum today" and then reality would dawn.

If I had to pick out her outstanding qualities I would say - her unselfish generosity, her sense of humour and the warmth of her love.

We prefer to remember her especially on her birthday, rather than the anniversary of her death, so today we'll be raising a glass in her honour, Bless her.