In honour of Mother's Day, I wish to present you with one of my favourite stories of Lynne Lurie (aka the Mom aka Lynnesky aka Mommmmmm-Asher's-bugging-me!!!). Anyone who has met this fine lady knows the following three things: a) she has a classy accent b) she makes an unreal zucchini soup c) she is unfailingly kind. Growing up, I knew that I could come to my Mom with any problem and she would soothe my worries with her dulcet Zimbabwean tones and a dose of soup and I would soon be right as rain. Well, dear readers, my faith in my Mother's supply of unending comfort was tested one fateful day at age fifteen. Of course, the event took place in the one area of the planet sure to shatter any childhood illusions...
