My mum hates having her picture taken - can't you tell? It was Mother's Day weekend four years ago that my brother and I got the train home from London together to go and bestow chocolate gingers and flowers on her. We bundled through the front door, dropped our bags in the hall and did what all children, whatever their age, do when they go home - we started looking for Babybels and Muller corners in the fridge. 'Can you two sit down for a minute?' my dad asked, 'Yeah yeah, give us a sec' I think I replied. 'No, now.' The next few minutes are hazy but I remember those four words so clearly, 'Mummy has breast cancer'. Today four years on my brother and I have been down again, given her chocolate gingers and a bag of makeup she's no doubt playing with as I type. After the news had sunk in - does it ever? - I emailed a friend and through all the confusion and uncertainty said something that up until that point I'd never really understood, 'no one will ever love me like my mum does'. And today, on Mother's Day, I know that I'll never love anyone in the way I absolutely and completely love my mum.