BEL MOONEY: How could my mean husband make fun of my hip op?

Dear Bel,

I was watching Strictly Come ­Dancing on TV and as Toyah Willcox and her professional partner began dancing I told my ­husband I’d like to see how she copes because she’s a similar age to me and also has had a hip replacement.

Toyah has mentioned her struggle to walk after her hip replacement, due to a shortening of one leg. It’s wonderful that she’s on the show.

I told him my physiotherapist was satisfied that I’m fairly well balanced after my operation four years ago. I work part-time, do dance classes at my local gym along with other ­activities and generally feel OK.

I have arthritis in my spine and I can feel my other hip starting to be slightly uncomfortable, but get on with it.

It shocked me to hear he doesn’t think me well balanced. He actually did an impression of what he says I look like when I walk.

It was awful: a horrible exaggerated limp. I’m sure I don’t walk like that, but what if I do? It made me feel hurt and insecure.

I asked why he felt he had to give me the demonstration and pointed out if he had done this to someone in work they could have taken him to tribunal for almost making fun of them by ­imitating their walk.

I asked if he thought any of my friends’ husbands would mimic them walking after surgery.

He said he thought they might. He looked uncomfortable, so I have the feeling he did know what he was doing.

He asked why I felt so shocked. I can only ­compare it with the feeling I used to get when younger.

I am mixed race and my parents had a difficult time settling into the small town where I was born. I struggled a little as well with comments about the ­colour of my skin.

All I could do after not receiving a satisfactory answer from him was to tip the scampi and chips I had cooked for him into his lap and go to bed.

He stayed downstairs all night, which I was grateful for. He says he doesn’t want to fall out. He has a knee replacement so knows what it’s like to overcome surgery.

Am I overreacting – or feeling ­justifiably upset?

VIRGINIA

Bel Mooney replies: Oh dear, that really is a waste of tasty scampi and chips and I’m sorry to hear it. I’m sure he felt sorry, once he’d cleared up the mess and slept on the sofa, but was ­incapable of saying so.

You have been married for ages (as your uncut letter reveals), so ­presumably you and your husband know each other very well.

I would hope he is fully aware of your sensitivities and that by now you are accustomed to his . . . what shall I call it? Tactlessness? Careless bluntness? Unkindness? Slight tendency to show off?

But this unfortunate incident seems to indicate a deficit in mutual ­understanding – and it needs to be put right.

Are you feeling justifiably upset? Yes. He was annoying.

Are you overreacting? Yes. He really didn’t mean to hurt you so much.

Just imagine how easier life would be if ­people could hold two truths in their minds at once. You’ve written to me before, ‘not requiring a response’ you explain, ‘but just to help me sort things out’. So let’s share the ­sorting out right now.

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BEL MOONEY: Can I ever make my family see how they hurt me?

It’s revealing that you find yourself remembering how it felt to be a mixed-race child who longed to fit in. Many ­people will understand that – and agree with me that there are often long-term ­consequences of ­childhood unhappiness. (Not ‘trauma’ – an overused word.)

But I hope you’ll understand when I say you’ve clearly made a good job of a life full of activity, although you’re now faced with the ­inevitable problems of ageing.

You coped and (I suspect) learned much along the way. Now you need to cope again. Do I think your husband meant to hurt you so much? No. Do I think he was rude and hurtful to do that imitation – a stupid, ­insensitive numpty? Yup!

If my husband did that ­(background: my first hip replaced seven years ago, second one this February, ongoing ­problem with knee sort of rolling inwards, occasional demoralised feeling), I wouldn’t like it one bit. However, he would never ­imitate me – and now your husband must admit he was crass to mock a slight limp.

I’m sure that’s what it must be – like mine when I’m tired.

We have to live with these little changes, but we can still make like Toyah and have a dance.

So what’s to be done? At the risk of some readers criticising me for being a bit tough (I don’t mind, honestly!), I’m ­saying you must snap out of this mood.

Husbands and wives can annoy the hell out of each other, but hey – you tell me you have a ‘husband of 34 years who professes to love me’, so please be glad of good ­fortune and forgive him for being so daft.

As he should forgive you for the waste of scampi and chips.

Should I pick my dog over my daughter?

Dear Bel,

In school holidays, my daughter Jen brings our three grandsons (aged five and under) for visits.

She’s never been keen on dogs but has given me dog-themed gifts. Our dear old dog died last year and we soon acquired a gorgeous, affectionate spaniel, now aged two. Bertie and I are well-known on walks and everyone loves him.

Jen lost two babies in the past; her three boys are extremely ­precious.

She was happy to have our old dog in the room on visits, on a lead as the boys were tiny. But she’s read about dog attacks and taken a stand against Bertie. Now, he must be in his crate (where he sleeps at night) all the time they are in the house.

But he can’t be there all day! He needs two hours’ exercise a day, but on their visits I try to fit in extra walks to tire him so he doesn’t make a fuss in the crate.

I have to smuggle him out of the front door, as going out the back means going through the lounge where the children are, and Jen is cross if I take him that way. In my own house! If my husband is home he’ll stay with ­Bertie in another room, but then can’t spend time with our grandsons.

She and I have been very close, like best friends, so I feel hurt. Her father had a mid-life crisis at 40 which finished us and as Jen will soon be reaching that age I fear it happening all over again.

Her inflexibility is exactly like her father’s. He would cut people off if they crossed him and I fear Jen could do the same to me. What would you do?

SALLY

Bel Mooney replies: Well, I’d be a mixture of irritation and anxiety, just as you are. I’d resent being told what to do in my own home, but also be ­worried that my tricky daughter might take major offence if I were to object to her dog phobia – and refuse to visit at all.

As a dog lover, I’d want her to be ­reasonable; as a grandmother, I’d put the grandchildren before the dog. I always rather prefer ‘doggy’ people; on the other hand, I have to accept that not ­everybody likes them.

As a pragmatist I believe in ­compromise – which always involves degrees of acceptance. That’s why I so often ­counsel resilience. The point is, family situations always require give and take, even if the accommodation you feel forced to make feels unjust.

Quote of the week 

And since, when a joyful thing happened, they looked to see whether joy was on her, it was her habit to build up laughter out of inadequate materials.

From The Grapes Of Wrath by John Steinbeck (American writer, 1902-1968)

When the alternative is rows, bitterness and estrangement, there is no contest. As I said last week, sometimes ‘put up and shut up’ is the wisest counsel. Disagree all you like; I think keeping schtum about real feelings can save family life.

In your position I’d suggest to my daughter that it would be wise gradually to get the children used to dogs, because they will meet them in the future. And you also look forward to a time, a few years off, when they can come to stay. So I’d suggest the five-year-old should come out for a short walk with you and Bertie every time they visit, throw a stick for fun – while your husband has Grandpa time with the tiny ones.

I’d tell her that as they get older the younger two should also be introduced to gentle ­Bertie-time, otherwise they might be terrified of dogs they’ll meet.

It’s important for all children to learn – for their own enjoyment and safety – how to behave with dogs: what to do and what not to do. But for now...

You are talking about the occasional day visit during ­holidays. That’s precious; you don’t want anything to spoil it. But scurrying about and having to keep Bertie crated is spoiling the visits for you.

So, since you mention how popular your lovely dog (you sent me a picture, so I know!) is with fellow dog-walkers, I suggest you ask for help. Couldn’t you arrange a ‘playdate’ for Bertie on family visits? They arrive after you’ve taken him for a walk and he’s resting in his crate.

Later, you take the eldest grandchild out with him as special time – a lovely habit for you both. Then your doggy pal arrives to collect Bertie for his afternoon playdate – and everybody can relax and be happy.

(Oh – and please don’t write a script for your daughter because of what ­happened with her father. That’s not fair.)

And finally... Showing you care is the best gift of all

It gave me a shock to hear that somebody I’ve come to rely on, my personal trainer, is ill in hospital.

No weekly ­session, no weight training (which I love), no silly lunging walk, no gossipy ­giggles either.

She messaged with the bad news and obviously I wanted to fire a message back. But what to say, apart from the obvious ‘Sorry to hear ... get well soon...’?

I simply told her that she must remember she is an ­inspiration whose clients hold her in great affection and respect. That’s all – apart from the ‘Love, Bel’.

But sometimes you have to say things, don’t you? And of course, she then came back thanking me with: ‘That means a lot.’

This sort of human communication is essential, and yet ­people say they can’t find the words. But why? Aware a friend has been downhearted, you just send a spontaneous email reminding her: ‘You’re such a lovely person.’ And, of course, it immediately warms the recipient’s heart.

You notice an elderly lady in the supermarket lift. She’s on her own, but dressed very smartly for her shopping, in a navy coat topped with a scarlet beret. It’s a change from the down-at-heel scruffiness that seems obligatory these days. So you say, ‘You look so smart!’ or ‘I just love the hat!’ – and the answering beam makes your day, as much as you’ve made hers.

Then – the middle-aged woman on the checkout is sporting newly-be-purpled hair. Tell her it looks cool, make her smile – and in those ­seconds buying groceries is transformed into giving ­somebody a gift.

It really doesn’t take much to say, ‘I’m sorry you’re so sad’ or ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ at times of stress or ­bereavement. Remember the simplest words carry the most meaning.

Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 9 Derry Street, London W8 5HY, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. Names are changed to protect identities. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.