What Happens When You’re Not Around to Babysit Your Mum? 

If you have been reading Listen, Linda for a while, you will know I have shared more than a few stories about my mum and the antics she gets herself into. 

So, I thought it was about time she got a blog all to herself. 

This one is about Mum’s first holiday abroad on her own since Dad passed away. 

After more than 50 years of marriage, Mum suddenly found herself having to navigate life without her favourite travelling companion. That is a huge adjustment for anyone. The little decisions, the big decisions, the things you have always done together. Suddenly, they are all on you. 

Now, to be fair, Mum is not completely new to solo travel. 

When I was little, she used to disappear off on holidays with her friends. She has also been away with me plenty of times, leaving Dad behind at home. But there was always one big difference. 

Dad was still there. 

Every trip was discussed. Every decision was shared. Every plan was made together. 

This time, it was just Mum. 

And that was a completely different prospect. 

The moment she mentioned she was thinking about going away by herself, I practically dragged her to the travel agent before she could change her mind. 

Sixteen nights. 

A coach tour of Italy. 

Booked. 

Committed. 

No backing out now. 

Mum and Dad had done coach holidays before and absolutely loved them. The problem was not the travelling. 

The problem was the people. 

Dad was always the social one. He would happily strike up conversations with complete strangers, while Mum could sit quietly worrying that she would spend sixteen nights trapped next to an absolute bell pipe. 

A genuine concern if you ask me. 

Thankfully, we were prepared. 

Before she left, we made sure she was fully equipped with the anti-bell-pipe package. 

Earphones. 

Travel charger. 

A decent playlist. 

When all else fails, good music can drown out almost anyone. 

As departure day got closer, you could see the nerves creeping in. 

She would never admit it, of course. 

But they were there. 

Then Debs dropped her off, waved goodbye, and off she went. 

Italy-bound. 

Since then, she has called me every single day. 

Every day there has been an update. 

Every day there are new photos. 

Every day there is another tale from the coach. 

And do you know what I have learned? 

She does not need me as her comfort cushion sitting back here in the UK. 

Not one bit. 

She is absolutely smashing it. 

In fact, I suspect she is having far more fun than the rest of us. 

Take the AirTag incident. 

Because I am a responsible daughter, I slipped an AirTag into Mum’s luggage before she left. 

Just for peace of mind. 

Now bear in mind that at 75, Mum is one of the youngest people on this trip. 

Most of the other passengers are in their eighties. 

Can you imagine their faces when notifications started appearing on their phones telling them an AirTag was travelling with them? 

Apparently, several people became convinced they were being stalked. 

Mum eventually had to admit that it was not an international crime syndicate. 

It was just her daughter tracking her. 

I have never laughed so much. 

Being sat on the front row has worked out nicely too. 

She has developed a cracking relationship with the driver and his son, who seem to have taken personal responsibility for making sure she stays hydrated. 

Mainly with Bacardi and Coke. 

Not exactly the hydration strategy the NHS recommends, but she is on holiday. 

The driver and his son have also discovered that Mrs Linda’s Mum has one very firm rule. 

She does not do steps. 

There has apparently been an occasion where they have enthusiastically encouraged everyone up some ancient castle staircase, only for Mum to plant herself firmly at the bottom and declare she has absolutely no intention of climbing anything. 

The resulting mickey-taking has become part of the daily entertainment. 

Then there was yesterday’s photo. 

Sent at 9:30am UK time. 

10:30am in Italy. 

There she was. 

Sat with a beer. 

Surrounded by friends. 

And that’s the thing. 

They aren’t “the people on row one” anymore. 

They all have names now. 

Stories. 

In-jokes. 

Friendships. 

One particular passenger has even been awarded a nickname. 

There’s apparently a chap on the coach who has become such an irritant that the group have christened him “Pothole”. 

Because everybody wants to avoid him. 

Cruel? 

Possibly. 

Funny? 

Absolutely. 

Most importantly, Mum’s laughing. 

Really laughing. 

The sort of laughing that tells you someone is genuinely enjoying themselves. 

She is making friends, creating memories, and proving to herself that life does not stop because someone you love is no longer beside you. 

Although she does have one major complaint. 

Apparently, she cannot find a decent hot coffee. 

Or decent Italian food. 

Which feels like the travel equivalent of going to France and not seeing a baguette. 

Only Mum could spend over a week in Italy and struggle to find coffee and decent food. 

At the time of writing, she is over halfway through her trip. 

And I could not be prouder. 

Because this holiday was never really about Italy. 

It was about confidence. 

It was about courage. 

It was about proving to herself that although life looks different now, it can still be full of adventure. 

Dad would have been incredibly proud of her. 

And so are we. 

Keep going, Mum. 

Love, 

Linda and Debs ❤️