IT might not have gone unnoticed that my family occasionally likes to poke fun at The Mother and her unique brand of daffy-ness and now I’ve discovered to my shock that it’s a trait which might be genetic.

Arriving at the Borough Theatre last week to review AAODS production of Sweeney Todd, I stopped off in the bar to pick up a few bottles of water.

After chatting with the bar staff for a few moments I headed into the auditorium to join the housemate and The Mother.

“Where’s the water?” Asked the housemate as I took my seat.

“The what?” I whispered back.

“The water you stopped to buy.”

“Damn…I left it on the bar,” I replied as the lights began to dim for the start of the show.

Next to me I could feel The Mother breaking out into a smug smile.

Glaring at her before she could make a sarcastic quip I handed her my phone.

“Can you put this in your back for me please? I’ve made sure if’s switched off.” I said handing it over.

As the show came to an end I delivered The Mother back to her house before heading home.

“I’m looking forward to a cuppa when we get home,” I said to the housemate pulling onto our road.

“Well you must be thirsty…you missed out on your bottle of water at the theatre,” said the housemate with a wry look.

Opting to take the moral high ground and not respond to her barb I slammed the brakes on.

‘I’ve got to go back to The Mother’s!” I announced.

“Why?” Asked the housemate in surprise. “You’ve been with her all night.”

“I left my phone in her bag!”

“Oh dear,” said the housemate raising her eyebrows.

“You’d better ring her and tell her you’re on your way back up to her house.”

“How can I do that?” I asked. “I’ve just told you I’ve left my phone in her handbag.”

“I thought you could just ring her on that,” she replied pointing at my car radio.

“Not without plugging my phone into it I can’t” I answered shaking my head.

“Well I never realised that,” she replied. “And the good thing is, you can’t use it against me because in order to do that you’ll have to admit you forgot to pick up two bottles of water and left your phone in your mother’s handbag!”

A few days later as we prepared lunch in the kitchen I admitted to the housemate I’d been slightly concerned about my lapses of memory.

“There’s nothing wrong with you...you just need a holiday,” she assured me, following up her words with a puzzled look.

“That said, why have you brought a second glass of orange juice to the table to go with the one you’ve already poured?” She asked.

“Maybe I need to re-think my last comments…I think there’s a fair change you have inherited your mother’s daffy gene,” she said shaking her head.