So, last night, my mother phones to tell me she’s Jewish. She’s just finished reading a book about a North London Jewish mother and is struck by the similarities.
‘I never realized I was so Jewish.’
‘What, Mom! The Yiddish, the mannerisms, your attitude to chicken soup – these weren’t clues for you?’
‘But I never realized!’
‘Mom, when I was growing up, I used to call you my Yiddishe Momma!’
‘Yes, I suppose. But so Jewish?!’
After the call, Mac says to me: ‘You know, I only heard half of that conversation but it made perfect sense to me. Apart from one thing - your mother’s not Jewish.’
‘I know. I know. But sometimes she needs reassuring.’
