"Ima*, no! I do not need 12 plates, 12 cups and what not!" Mariam looked at her mother, who was adament that a young lady moving out needed a hope chest filled with the most ridiculous items. "Look, this is the sixties, and I will decide what I buy for my flat. I adore you for looking out for me but 12 cups and everything else is ancient and belongs in the pre-war era. I am very sorry, but no, I won't have it! I want to buy MY own things at a flea market somewhere! I want to go shopping! And have FUN while I am decorating my new house."
"Flea market?" Hadassa, Mariam's mother was about to pass out. No child of hers was going to buy household items at a flea market.
Abraham intervened, the diplomat he was. "Now.... my dear girls, yes both of you, let eachother be. Mariam, if you want to do this, then you go ahead. You are old enough to make your own decisions. And my Dearest Love, you must realise that we are in London and not in some shtetl** where you marry off your children and expect heaps of grandchildren. Enough, both of you"
"See!" Mariam said to her mother and picked up a bag to get out of her childhood home as fast as she could. There were markets waiting for her after all.
"Um.... "Hadassa hesitated "Did you at least make a list of items you need? And can I come with you? The weather is quite nice and I can take you to lunch afterwards?"
"Excellent!" Abraham added, "you 2 make this a fun mother/daughter afternoon. Now, out, GO!" He gently grabbed his wife by the elbow and shoved her out the door, Mariam following with a big smile on her face.
"Where is our first stop?" Hadassa wondered.
"Let's hop on the tube and go to Deptford Market. It's huge! We'll need to change at London Bridge."
(*mother in Hebrew)
(** small town)