Two weeks ago you all met my mum, Rose Kavanagh. When I saw the article I felt horribly homesick. I always liked Saturday mornings with my parents because we'd lounge around in our dressing gowns reading different sections of the Guardian. Mum goes straight for the Business and Review sections these days. Sometimes she cuts out articles that will be useful for the A-level class that she teaches. Dad loves the obituaries, but he reads pretty much every word of the paper. One of us will always scoff at Yotam Ottolenghi's vegetarian recipe, complaining that it's got way too many obscure ingredients. My parents are kind of addicted … every day there is one if not two copies on the kitchen table (one would have brought it without realising the other already had). Mum gets annoyed because dad never throws the papers away. They turn into "piles of junk" cluttering up the house.
I first enjoyed the Guardian when I was about five. It was great to tear up and stick back together in a different way when I made my paper mache balloons. When I was a teenager I liked the band reviews and gig adverts in the Guide and the fashion spread in Weekend. Now I like the Travel section, and the Big picture article. I'm at uni and my favourite procrastination when I'm writing an essay is looking at the photograph articles – the images of the segregated south recently were amazing. But to be honest, the feature I always flick to first on Saturday morning is Blind date in Weekend. I find it fascinating and yet quite depressing how two people can share the same experience but have completely different impressions. Often the guy will think "wow, that girl was great" but the girl wouldn't consider introducing him to her friends.
Mum did something very sweet. I just spent a year in Australia and when I came home she had saved all of the copies of Weekend for me because she knows I love this feature.
In Australia I would read the Guardian online. I liked to compare the articles that covered the same story from the UK and Australian version – a very interesting comparison. Try it!
Sitting at my desk at uni, quickly scrolling, clicking, my eyes jumping around the screen, is not as nice. The internet doesn't let love get piled up in a stack under an empty bed. Digital doesn't submit the sound of mum shouting out with joy to dad "Yes, Noel, I finished it!" when she's completed the crossword.
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