Andy Richardson: Here’s respect to mothers and fathers everywhere

There’ll be no junior football this weekend and the visit to see the grandparents is off. Instead, mum’s wondering when maths got so hard; what the hell are polynomials, how do you teach a Year Nine kid co-ordinate geometry and what on earth are euclids and quadrilaterals?

Dad, meanwhile, is trying to figure out the definition of a past pronoun and both parents have given up on French with a shrug of their shoulders and cry of ‘sacre blue’.

Mums and dads may not be getting the same attention as NHS staff and carers in these clap-on-a-Thursday days of support for essential workers. But make no mistake, they are no less vital to the wellbeing of Great Britain Inc.

Mum’s burgeoning career has been put on hold so that she can provide lessons in geography, history and IT while dad’s love of spreadsheets has been replaced by an impressive knowledge of PAW Patrol characters: there’s Ryder, Marshall, Rubble, Chase, Rocky, Zuma and Skye. I thank you.

Not all lessons are going to plan, however, and parents have been caught sending kids to the cupboard to fetch snacks – it’s not part of the syllabus, honestly. Detention also has a funny look: “Go to your room.” “Great, more screen time on my iPad. I’ll Snapchat my friends. Please can I have detention tomorrow, too?”

Kids can look forward to another month at home while parents can look at their offspring and remind themselves that, yes, despite what their brain is telling them, they do actually love their kids. The umbilical chord of parental love is a powerful force and some of us find it’s never really cut. No matter what age you reach, no matter how far you travel, parents light the way.

I started lockdown by taking the eminently sensible step of converting my back garden into a cricket wicket. Money was spent on a bowling machine – no, I’m not telling you how much, She Who Must Be Obeyed may be reading.

A net was installed; though the garden pigeons didn’t think much of that and flew to the wrong end in protest as I was about to go into bat. The system was tested et voila – Saturday mornings are now spent hammering balls through the imaginary covers instead of watching paid professionals do something similar at Worcestershire or Edgbaston.

Mind you, my side resembles a boxer’s face after 12 rounds. Balls speared in off a length have a nasty tendency to cannon into the forearm and ribs – such are the problems of batting on a surface best described as uneven.

I delivered a food parcel to my father and from a sensible distance told him what I’d been up to. He may have used the word ‘nutter’ as he assessed the state of play.

Then he asked the entirely sensible question: Do you wear a helmet? I blustered about having David Gower-esque hand-eye co-ordination, Kevin Pietersen levels of reflexes and quantums of bravery that would make Ian Botham look cowardly.

He disappeared from view, emerging moments later with a helmet that once belonged to Middlesex and Glamorgan professional Colin Metson. “Use this,” he said. And then he produced the cable-knit cricket sweater that belonged to the England and Essex spinner Peter Such.

“This’ll keep you warm if it gets windy.” He wasn’t done. In a display of generosity that would make Santa look like Scrooge, he produced Graeme Hick’s England training top. “Hicky wore this. It’ll bring you luck.” I thought it best not to ask where they came from. Though I remembered seeing a cricket memorabilia lorry passing the old fella’s house earlier that day, with clothes tumbling from it.

Having not picked up a bat properly for 30 years, I now find myself wearing the helmet of a man described by Dickie Bird as the best English wicketkeeper since Alan Knott, a sweater owned by a bowler who took 6 for 67 on his test debut for England and a training top worn by a Worcestershire icon who played 65 test matches, scored 40,000 first class runs and had a top score of 405.

We’re supposed to be the ones who look after parents in this strange time of lockdown, but old habits die hard. And the father who once provided a parent taxi, nurtured a range of interests best described as eclectic and supported a love of sport and the creative arts remains one step ahead.

Parents may not be as fashionable as our essential workers. And not even Ben Fogle is suggesting we take to the streets to applaud. But in our own quiet ways, we ought to respect their generosity and support in these challenging times. So today, irrespective of age and circumstance, here’s to mothers and fathers everywhere.