Robbie Savage’s mum Val on cherishing friendships strengthened in lockdown

This week Val writes how the lockdown has made her appreciate the important people in her life...

We have to look for the positives in everything - even lockdown. And I’ve been happy to see that all the kindness shown to me way back at the start, when everything was terrifying, has continued even as restrictions ease.

My neighbour Nia has brightened every Sunday by delivering me a tray of the most delicious dinners. I gave up making big roasts when I began living on my own, and Nia’s dinners with the little gravy jug and all the trimmings became the highlight of the weekend.

When I needed new pyjamas - haven’t we all been wearing them more than ever? - Nia looked all around Marks and Spencer for me. When she didn’t find any in my size she went to Tesco and bought me two sets of PJs so beautiful I’d be proud to go anywhere during the day in them.

To think of me like that, to give me so much time, even though she has a busy job and her own family to look after, means the world.

My friend Sheila has also been incredible. She doesn’t set foot out the door without calling to see if I need anything. And when Tena Ladies sold out everywhere and left me too worried to even consider laughing, she worked out how to get them online and dropped big boxes off on my doorstep. She’s really looked after my waterworks.

And another friend Helen was amazing, especially when I was really ill at the start of lockdown. She’s always popping in to drop off masks, Lucozade, a homemade pork pie or scones with a tiny pot of blackcurrant jam.

Then Beryl, who lives across the street, has kept an eye on me and kept me laughing. We take turns ringing each other every day, and we know if we don’t see our curtains drawn by 10.30am something’s wrong.

She and I moved into this street in the same week 48 years ago and I knew I’d like her even before I saw her. Because while all the other neighbours moved in with posh Pickfords vans, we didn’t have much money so my dad borrowed the local bakers’ van and all our furniture arrived covered in crumbs.

Out the window I saw someone else moved their furniture in an old coal lorry. That was Beryl. And that was the moment I knew we’d be friends.

My granddaughter Caitlin has visited me every Saturday to get my shopping list and she goes around Asda carefully making sure she finds everything. I’ve loved seeing her each week.

My eldest son Jonathan speeds around to my front door if I don’t answer even one of his FaceTime calls. And Robbie’s kept close tabs on me too.

So instead of moaning about how lockdown has been lonely, the coronavirus crisis has made me realise how lucky I am to have so many kind and thoughtful people in my life. The restrictions may have stripped us of lots of fun, free movement and our holidays. But it’s also stripped back all the chaos of our busy lives and shone a light on what really matters: good friends, family and kindness.

Photos? Behave your-selfie

My generation is the very opposite to the selfie generation.

I can’t stand having my picture taken and tried all sorts, even making threats, to get out of having these done for this newspaper.

I asked Beryl to join me, but when I called her she went hysterical because I know she isn’t comfortable having a camera in her face. She said: “Call yourself a friend? Don’t expect Rich Tea biscuits the next time you visit.”

Back in our day, we rarely took pictures. Cameras only came out for special occasions. The last time I had one, my late husband Colin and I were on a boat around Ibiza. I was playing up a bit, thinking I was like Kate Winslet in Titanic. And when we went over a bumpy wave, my camera flew out of my hands and plopped into the Med.

I can’t condemn the people who pout like a fish and constantly take pictures of themselves, because my Robert is one of them. Each time he stands near my kitchen window he whips his phone out, flicks his hair and does something funny with his lips to pose. It’s not normal.

My feet worries made a bad spell

Lots of us at a certain age become a bit forgetful. This week I forgot how to spell chiropodist while I was texting my friend.

The words in the dictionary were too small for me to see. So after spending an age trying to type it and getting frustrated, I texted “the lady who comes to see to my feet” because it was quicker.

Dreams of being a rock and stroller

The arthritis in my legs has worsened since lockdown because I haven’t been moving around as much. So although I used to be able to walk to Beryl’s house with my stick, now I need my walker.

In the back of my mind I have a huge list of things I’d love to do if my legs were better. At the top would be a long charity walk to raise money for Alzheimer’s charities. I’d think of my husband Colin every step of the way and wear a tabard with big letters that said “For my Col”.

Telly fix

My addiction to Antiques Road Trip means I’m watching it for three hours every day.

The new TVs mean I can pause it if I’m interrupted by the phone or the door. And although that’s handy, I can’t help missing the old tellies. Because with these so-called smart TVs, if anything goes wrong I need to spend an hour on the phone to a call centre in Scotland where they can’t understand me and I can’t understand them.

In the old days I could just turn the aerial at the back vertical or horizontal and everything was sorted.

Why I've a chip on my shoulder about cards

Shops aren’t always taking cash as part of the coronavirus restrictions, and I understand it but don’t like it.

I don’t trust cards. I’ve heard too many stories about people stealing pin numbers or being able to make withdrawals just by standing too close.

I know where I am with cash. It means I’d never spend what I don’t have. And I like to keep receipts and balance everything up to the penny on my bank statement at the end of each month.

So I don’t care if I’m the last person in Britain who still does it. I don’t care if it’s old-fashioned. I’ll carry on with cash and you can keep your cards.

Robert's brother is his no.1 supporter

I said last week my two boys are different in every way. But as different as they are, they have always been close.

Jonathan has always been Robert’s biggest supporter. When he went for his week’s trial as a teen to win a place in Alex Ferguson’s Manchester United academy, we were all on tenterhooks.

Colin couldn’t concentrate at work so took time off to go and watch Robert play. He came home looking dejected and said Robert had played well, but he’d seen him play better.

On the day Fergie said he’d make his decision, Jonathan, Colin and I were at the tea table when the phone rang. I answered and the scout who’d spotted Robbie said Fergie had seen enough of Robert play and had made up his mind.

Before going back to the table, I grabbed tangerines from the fruit bowl, threw them in the air in an attempt to juggle them and said in the style of the old Del Monte orange juice ad: “The man from United - he say YES!”.

Jonathan was the first to jump to his feet and cheer.

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Robbie SavageRoad tripsMental healthAlzheimer's diseaseSmart TVsCoronavirus