Welcome to my blog. I live, knit, crochet, spin and craft near the Northumbrian Coast (but not too near – the waves won't be splashing my yarn!).There's a story in every stitch, every grain of sand, every blade of grass. I thought I'd blog about it…
I’d seen some publicity on social media recently about a stash sale. I hadn’t really thought a lot about it until I realised that it was on the way to Newcastle Airport, where I would be heading to pick daughter up on Saturday afternoon. I thought I’d call in.
If you’ve never been to a stash sale, they are a brilliant way of picking up crafting bargains. Those taking part each have table to set out their wares: anything they want rid of from their crafting stash that others may find a use for.
This one at Stannington Village Hall had been well-publicised and was extremely well supported, absolutely rammed with visiting crafters after a bargain, and there was so much to choose from. There was yarn, fabric, card making, embroidery and quilting supplies and more….absolutely all sorts! There was also a cafe area selling drinks and scones and a raffle in aid of a local food bank.
One of the first things I picked up was some yarn: some big cones of 4-ply in pink, magenta and purple at only £1 each. I also bought some claret coloured cotton yarn, also £1.
I saw a couple of people I knew, including one of the stallholders, a friend that I haven’t seen for ages, so it was lovely to have a catch up with her…and she had some lovely items for sale. This bag of small pieces of sari fabric with embellishments was only £5
I also bought this box of pearly glass beads, also £5, which is perfect for a forthcoming project I’m planning.
There were books, patterns and magazines for sale on several of the stalls and I bought this crochet book – it includes a pretty comprehensive library of crochet stitch pattern, which will come in useful as I design more things for crochet classes.
Finally, there was a length of lace fabric (£1) and a handbag frame (£3)
Not a bad haul for £22!
Have you ever been to a stash sale? What was your best ever find?
It’s been a while since I wrote a review – as usual it’s from my viewpoint as a disabled fan, which is not always the experience you’d like it to be.
This was the first standing only concert I’d been to at Newcastle City Hall. There is a registration system for disabled customers – once you have sent them details of your requirements and proof of disability, you can book an accessible seat and a companion ticket, ie two tickets. If it’s a standing gig they send you one ticket – which confused me until I phoned them. The other thing to remember is that if tickets go on sale at 10 am, the box office at City Hall doesn’t open until 12 noon!
The accessible entrance is on College Street (one of the side doors) but it’s not clearly marked – knock hard and they open it for you, check your ticket and stamp your hand, then escort you to your seat – in this case the accessible platform – a good solid structure at the back of the stalls with plenty of very helpful stewards and a reserved spot with your name on. I was able to drive my little folding scooter straight into the space. There was even a member of staff to take your bar orders – all great so far!
The place was filling up fast – looked like a sellout.
Erica Nockalls was the support act. She’s a confident performer with strong, soaring vocals .
It was a bit of a revelation when she brought out the violin – turns out she’s classically trained, has played with the Wonder Stuff, the Proclaimers and more. The set was engaging, but dark….a cut above the average support act.
There’s a great atmosphere on the platform tonight. There’s space enough for three of us on wheels with our companions and seats behind for ambulant disabled. I’m aware that my scooter seat is quite high and I don’t want to block anyone’s view so I give K’s seat to the woman behind- he never sits anyway. I have a long chat about accessibility at concerts with someone else on the platform – he’s a musician, loves going to gigs and has some horror stories about the total lack of thought that has gone into some of the disabled facilities he’s come across in the past – things are getting better, but are still a long way from perfect.
They’ve certainly tried at the City Hall, but there is one flaw: the position of the platform. It’s at the back of the stalls underneath the balcony, so the chatter from the audience is magnified and is very distracting when you just want to listen to the band (I despair at why people do this almost as much as when they watch the gig through their mobiles).
The House Manager comes over to check all is well on the platform – he’s been working there for years – it turns out that several of us on the platform saw our first gig at the City Hall (mine was The Tourists, forerunner of the Eurythmics, back in the 80s). He was telling us that the venue is celebrating its centenary in a couple of years – it’s been through a lot, closed for a while and then underwent a big refurbishment some years back, which has created a flexible space with both seated and standing events possible.
In the interval I went to find the accessible toilet, which is situated in the foyer, Radar Key operated. One of the lovely stewards on the platform helped me as I appeared to have left my own Radar Key in another handbag! It’s not a bad facility, spacious enough, though could do with a mirror. As I was reversing my scooter out, someone held the door open for me – I looked up and it turned out it was Erica, the support act, who was standing there next to the merch stall – so we had a brief chat – she was lovely!
The atmosphere was building. It was time for Echo & The Bunnymen. A projection of bare trees created a sombre look to the stage as the band came on stage, the perfect backdrop to the brooding silhouette of Ian McCulloch, who remained unlit for most of the performance.
We’ve seen a lot of 80s artists over the last couple of years – some have changed a lot over time, but McCulloch’s voice sounds as good as ever (and he still has a full head of hair). There’s something menacing about those songs: the minor chords, the jangling guitar, the dark lyrics, but I love it!
They played two sets. In the interval we are really glad of the platform bar assistant as everyone in the place is replenishing their drinks. The band return to the stage and McCulloch’s control of the crowd is powerful – the smallest gesture sets everyone up to sing or clap along.
He’s a man of few words and the one time he said more than a sentence between songs, it was drowned out by the chatter (damn those platform acoustics). We already heard Bring on the Dancing Horses at the end of set one, but the rest of the hits come thick and fast now. The Cutter, Seven Seas, the hauntingly beautiful Killing Moon, and to end, Lips Like Sugar.
Echo and the Bunnymen never figured heavily in my record collection at the time but those are classics, with a dark edge to most that set them apart. Somehow that has stood the test of time.
The upstairs room at Amble Pin Cushion was buzzing yesterday for my latest crochet workshop.
This time I was introducing participants to the joys of Amigurumi – those double crochet toys and figures that have become so popular. I took some previous projects and a work in progress to show them, including a couple of my mini-ponies.
The project I’d chosen for them to make was a cute bumble bee that I’ve named Betty! Isn’t she bee-utiful?
Betty’s construction included several techniques that are commonly found in amigurumi…
Magic loop (a way of starting off when crocheting in the round that leaves no gapping for stuffing to show through)
Double crochet increase
Double crochet decrease
Changing yarn colour
I’ve been making some mini tutorial videos to help my students continue their project at home without getting too bee-wildered. There’s only so much of it can be completed during a 2-hour session so I hope this will bee a useful way to help them practice these skills.
As with all my classes, I prepared detailed illustrated instructions but also included an info sheet about amigurumi. I also put together materials packs, including cotton yarn, filling, beads for eyes and pre-cut wings (made from offcuts of dress netting) , some of which had been kindly supplied by APC’s owner, Norma. The only thing the students needed to bring on the day was a crochet hook.
Five people took part, and before long the room was a hive of industry. All were fairly new to crochet and included a pair of sisters, a member of my spinning group, who is also booked on to my Granny Squares workshop next month, and one of my regular students. What a lovely group of women! There was a really nice atmosphere and I thoroughly enjoyed running the session.
I always ask people to complete a short evaluation at the end of the session. think if I run it again it might bee a good idea to prepare some ready-started projects, with the magic loop completed – it took some of the group a while to get past this which really ate into the time available. … and I don’t want my lovely participants getting bee-fuddled by something early on in the session and bee put off.
Hopefully they’ll now have enough information to complete their projects and there’ll be a whole swarm of Betty Bees dispersed through this part of Northumberland.
I’ll stop the bee puns now!
I’m back in the training room at APC next month to repeat my popular Granny Squares workshop – there always seems to be a demand for this one, with lots of potential projects in unlimited colour combinati0ns once you’ve mastered the basics.
It’s been a horrible few weeks, but something that has been really positive about the whole experience has been reaching out to my extended family. Both my grandparents came from large families so there are a lot of us. Initially this was to let people know that Mum had passed away, then we shared memories of her.
I knew that my Mum, along with her mother, brothers and some of the cousins had been evacuated to the village of Ingoe during World War II, to escape the bombing in Newcastle. Shipyards, engineering works and factories making tanks and guns had made the city into a target.
One of Mum’s cousins, Pat, a lovely lady who I have not seen in years, has been exchanging emails with me. She and her brother, Michael were in Ingoe during the war with Mum. One of her grandchildren had done a school project about wartime evacuation and she’d written about it for him. She sent me this account along with some photographs and has very kindly allowed me to publish them here.
Pat
Evacuation in 1939
I was seven years old when the Second World War began and I lived with my parents and younger brother in Newcastle upon Tyne. My school had infant, junior and senior departments. Our parents were given the option to allow us to be evacuated from Newcastle which was thought to be a prime target for German bombers as it had a large shipbuilding industry as well as engineering works and associated factories making armaments. Railway links with Newcastle running north, south, and west were important and there was a large goods depot where food supplies and necessities were stored and where trains were maintained and repaired. Throughout England more than 3,000,000 children and adults were evacuated, from cities and towns, to areas which were deemed to be ‘safer’ in a scheme known as Pied Piper.
My mother volunteered to go as a helper with children from the school and my brother came too. Michael was three years old. I am sure that there must have been meetings for parents, and certainly information and lists, so that they knew what the children had to take with them, when and where everyone had to assemble but we were not told where we would be taken. On the morning of the evacuation we all went to school equipped with a case, or bag, containing underclothes, night clothes, slippers, socks, spare shoes, toothpaste and brush, soap, facecloth, towel and some warm clothes and with the all-important gas mask in a box attached to a long string which went around our necks. I think that we were all wearing warm coats to which a label was pinned giving our names and ages and the name of the school from which we had been sent. We also carried something to eat on the journey.
In a very long crocodile we left the school fairly early in the morning and walked to the nearest railway station which was not far away (on Jesmond Road) accompanied by teachers and many helpers. My mother was not only responsible for Michael and me but she also had several other children to look after during the journey and I do remember that we all managed to fit into one railway compartment. Many parents accompanied us to the station but could not board the train so stood on the platform watching their children on the train. I think that there were lots of tears but generally we children were quite excited to be on a train.
The train left Jesmond Station, Newcastle when it was full and took us through Newcastle then, very quickly out west into the countryside. We must have travelled to Carlisle then south to the Lake District. It was quite a long journey but most children had a sandwich or piece of bread and cheese. There was a lot of unemployment on Tyneside and many very poor families so the sandwiches may have contained egg or cheese but there were many children on the trains who had just a piece of bread or a jam sandwich. Apples came out of many pockets and some had the luxury of a Kit Kat biscuit or another type of biscuit. We were given water to drink several times during the day and mother had brought some extra food and sweets to share with the children in our carriage. I think that we fell asleep for a while and in the afternoon we were aware that the countryside was different, we could see high hills and mountains. The train eventually reached Windermere and, I think that we were then taken, in buses, to Bowness on Windermere which was our destination and we walked to a school where lots of people were waiting for us. Because Michael and I were accompanied by a parent we were almost last to be allocated a place to stay and by that time we were all very tired. I am sorry that I did not ask my mother, when I was an adult, how she felt about the situation, how she related to the lady with whom we were living and how she felt about being away from her own home. She was kept very busy because two other children were with us and I know that she did a lot of the cooking and washing.
We were billeted with the head teacher of the primary school who lived in a large house opposite an open piece of land on which brambles grew and where blackberries were ripening in large quantities so that blackberry pies, crumbles and cakes were everyday items on the menu. We went to school each day but only for half a day as the school could not accommodate the resident population of children plus all the evacuees. The weather was lovely that September and we would walk down to the lake, paddle in the shallow water for a while, play in the sand and throw pebbles into the lake before walking back to the house for lunch or tea. There was no bombing during the first few weeks and months of the war and mother decided to take us back to Newcastle for a while.
I think that Uncle Ken [my grandfather] came to collect us because we made the journey by car and, at that time, my father could not drive because of a badly damaged ankle. Uncle Ken’s parents had a cottage twenty miles outside Newcastle where our Aunty Wyn [my grandmother] and Gillian [my mum], were already staying and within a few weeks Michael and I went to stay with them. Mother stayed at home with Dad but mother’s youngest sister (Jean) came with us to help look after us all. Aunty Jean was still quite young then and living with our Grandmother in Newcastle until she was old enough to join the WRAAF. The village in which the cottage stood was on a high outcrop of rock with views towards Newcastle and the coast so that on a fine day we could see a silver line on the horizon which was the North Sea.
South Crag.L-R: Pat, Michael (Pat’s brother), ?, Mum
There were only about thirty cottages and half a dozen farms in the area plus a Methodist Chapel. There were no shops but a travelling shop called three times each week and I can still recall the very special smell that came from the back of the van when the driver opened the doors – the mingled smell of bread, meats, apples, vegetables, and paraffin for the lamps was very distinctive and I can still remember it today! On Thursdays a bus came at 9.30 and took people to Hexham to do their main shopping and brought them back at 3.30., we children never went on the bus. Another smell which reminds me of Ingoe is that of Phlox because there were clumps of pink Phlox in front of the house, there was also a Beech hedge and when I hear the breeze through the Beech hedge here in Cheltenham I am reminded of Ingoe. Smells! Pleasant and not so pleasant!
Outside cottage. Had Tinted? Mum and her cousin Michael with Auntie Jean behind the garden wall
There was a school which took in children from the age of five to fourteen, which was the school leaving age then; the head teacher was Miss Robson and there was an assistant evacuee teacher whose name I cannot remember. There was only one large classroom for all the children and on the longest wall there was an enormous fire range which kept the room warm and provided us with hot water and sometimes, in the winter, soup for the children who could not go home for lunch. Many of the children had a long walk to and from school each day; they came from outlying farms and cottages. The toilets were outside and were very basic, smelly, draughty and cold and they had a distinctive smell too!
The village had no running water into the cottages and farms although some of the farms had wells. People in the village had to carry every drop of water that was needed from a tapped spring which lay at the bottom of a steep hill (I think that it was called The Pant!) and each child who was capable of doing so had to help to carry at least a little water. When evening came we lit Tilley (paraffin) lamps and candles so it was always early to bed even for the adults.
Outside cottage. Mum and Cousin Michael
War seemed a long way away although we did sometimes see air battles in the distance and when there had been a night raid on Newcastle we could see the glow of large fires even though it was so far away. The night on which the goods station at Manors Railway Station was bombed the blaze was spectacular and could still be seen during the day. At school we were trained to run to a ditch or hedge and lie down with our hands over our heads and ears when we heard an aeroplane. Usually the planes were friendly as there was a small air field nearby where new pilots were trained but occasionally there were German planes in the vicinity.
Life must have been very difficult for Aunty Wyn but I don’t remember her being cross with us. Every house had one or two rainwater butts to collect water from the roofs for washing people and clothes but every drop of drinking water had to be carried in buckets from ‘The Pant’ which was a piped spring at the bottom of the steep road which was the only road into the village. An adult would carry two buckets and any child capable of carrying water was expected to help. Neighbours were helpful and generally kind. There were no indoor bathrooms/toilets; outside, at the back of the house there were two facing rows of cubicles each containing a wooden plank seat with a hole over a bucket! It was smelly in the summer and bitterly cold in the winter and the holes did seem quite large! Michael actually managed to lose his grip on the side of the hole and fell down into the bucket. Poor Aunty! Fortunately Aunt Florrie was staying at the time and she had to extricate him from the bucket then clean him up!! She was not amused. There were chamber pots under the beds and we washed in a bowl in the tiny kitchen or had a bath in a tin bath into which hot water from the ‘range’ was poured – sometimes the tin was a bit hot I do remember that! We had Tilley lamps and candles for lighting and a coal/wood burning range in the living room for heat and for cooking. There was always a kettle of water on the hob and the oven was usually warm, or hot for cooking. I don’t remember much about the food except that we had a lot of vegetable soups sometimes flavoured with chicken stock from boiled bones.
My mother came at the weekends and always brought some ‘goodies’ for us all and clean clothes for three children. Uncle Ken still had a car so was able to come most weekends and he was the one who had the unenviable task of emptying our toilet bucket! When we knew that he would be coming we would be outside listening for his car which we could hear before we could see it. I do remember the utter silence on most days although, of course, there were plenty of farms around the village so there were a few tractors. Most of the farms still used horses with ploughs and the hay was often still cut by men with scythes although some was cut mechanically. We bought our milk from Pasture House Farm where Mr and Mrs Temple lived and they became firm friends and were very kind to us. Sometimes they would give us a couple of free eggs or a few rashers of bacon. Another farm was Sandyway Heads which was farmed by the son of the largest nearby farm but I can’t remember the name of that farm or of the farmers.
I loved the country and the freedom that I had to roam fields and play in the bracken on the South Crag. School was very relaxed! We younger children were often looked after by the older girls who just ‘mothered’ us and read to us – if they could read themselves. Michael and Gillian were too young to go to school so were looked after by Aunty Wyn. I wish that I had talked to her too about those days! I also wish that I had thanked her for her care during the time we were with her.
At South Crag. Far right: Michael, looking up at my grandmother (his Aunty Wyn). In front of them ar Pat (R) and Mum next to her drinking from cup
I’m so grateful to Pat for sending me this. She has an incredible memory! It has given me so much insight into what My mother experienced during this time – she was very young (just 2 years old when war broke out), so she could only just remember some of it. Pat has written such an amazing account, not only a fascinating social document, but a piece of my family’s history that I will cherish.
The photos Pat sent include this one of the cottage. It still stands and can be seen on Google Map Street View – little has changed
Glen View CottageScreenshot from Google Street View
Another unexpected connection that I discovered after the last two blog posts were published is that one of my blog subscribers is the mother-in-law of one of my cousins (Hello Cathy!). She is a keen genealogist and has traced my ancestors several generations back from back from my grandfather (Uncle Ken in Pat’s account). Cathy has offered to send me further details. How amazing is that?
All this is really helping me find something really positive at what has been a very sad time – I’m learning more of my family’s history and it’s so interesting.
I’ve heard that writing can be used as a form of therapy and self-indulgent as it might be, since the planning of my Mum’s funeral has taken up most of my headspace over the last couple of weeks, I do feel the need to write about it now.
For most of us, planning a funeral is something that we may have to do only once or twice in our lives if we are lucky. We want to do what our loved one would have wanted, often second guessing them as few leave behind plans to be followed. It’s certainly made me think about what I want to happen when the time comes, and how to make my wishes known to my family.
In arranging Mum’s funeral, all we knew was that she wanted to be cremated and to have a Christian service, so we came up with something that was in line with her faith, but at the same time very personal.
We agreed on a traditional funeral service at the church she attended for many years, St Michael and All Angels, Felton, followed by a short cremation service at the nearby Bockenfield Crematorium. Both the vicar, Rev Richard Townend and our funeral director, Kevin Foster gave us lots of help and support, which was greatly needed, having never done this before and not being either church goers or particularly religious. I asked my aunt about hymns (she used to attend church with my mum) and the vicar advised us on readings.
Screenshot
The church is a beautiful old building dating back to around 1200 (you can read more about its history here). My brother and I visited it a couple of weeks before the funeral as we hadn’t been for ages. One of the reasons we wanted to do this was to check out the access as ancient buildings are not always the easiest for disabled visitors. The main path up to the church has some steep and uneven sections, so we decided to borrow a wheelchair for my aunt and that I would use my mobility scooter. The funeral director was able to obtain the wheelchair and ensured that there was space in the back of the funeral car for a folding scooter. There is a portable ramp at the steps into the church.
The church has kept up with the times , despite its medievals origins, to make it a more flexible space. A glass wall was erected to divide off the back of the church and this has created a soundproof space with all sorts of functions: it is used by the Sunday School children and to serve refreshments after services, with a hatch into the kitchen. Other additions to the church are toilets, a sound system and large screen tv. All have been added very sensitively and don’t detract at all from the old stonework and stained glass windows.
Screenshot
Mum used to help with the flowers at church. She used to tell me how there were no flowers during Lent, then the church would be lit up with daffodils and other spring flowers on Easter Sunday. With this in mind we decided on flowers on the coffin only. Local florist Polly Smith of Polly’s Petals, an old school friend of my daughter made the most beautiful arrangement.
We met her during the saddest time, during the week after Mum’s death and spent a lovely hour with Polly by the wood-burning stove in the cabin where she works. Polly’s style is very much inspired by nature. The spray she created resembles a spring meadow, including tulips, ranunculus, spray and tea roses, iris, lizianthus and anemones, in shades of pink, purple and white with complementary foliage. The peachy pink roses were like my Dad’s favourite peach rose in the garden.
The. arrangement was made in four sections, each to be taken home afterwards by female close family members. Polly sets the flowers in moss rather than florists foam, which is plastic based and does not break down. She also planted surprises among the moss, some white crocus bulbs, just starting to sprout, which can be taken out and planted in the garden later.
Polly was an absolute pleasure to deal with, so kind at all times. She took all our requests on board and made suggestions of her own. She even had sample flowers to show us when we visited to give us an idea of what is in season and what she’d most likely be using. The result was stunning.
Music was important to my mum. She learnt to play the piano as a child and reached a high standard. She sang in choirs for many years, most recently The Bridge Singers, who played an important role in the service, their ranks swelled by the Swarland Community Choir. In the half hour before the service, as people were arriving, they sang a selection of songs, including some of Mum’s favourites. Notes of the song list and the reasons they were included were placed around the church.
The Choir also provided a lovely alternative to the more traditional organ music to accompany the congregational hymns. People were given the option of joining in or sitting to listen to the choir’s harmonies and contemplate the words. Their versions of “All Things Bright and Beautiful” and “How Great Thou Art” were beautiful. Their rendition of the very Scottish folk song, The Parting Glass, a favourite of Mum’s was very moving. I’m so grateful to the choirs and Musical Director Cheryl Camm for everything they did to make Mum’s service so special.
We have extended family and friends all over the world, including in India, Australia and the USA, as well as throughout the UK. Distance, health issues, work and other commitments made it impossible for quite a number of people to travel to the funeral. At the suggestion of one of my cousins, we arranged for the funeral to be live-streamed , with the option of watching later. Dejavu Video did a superb job – the videographer was unobtrusive and the video quality was excellent. I’ve had some great feedback from those who watched it. You can see it here.
As well as the eulogy I read, other personal touches were a favourite poem of Mum’s, Sea Fever by John Masefield read by my brother and the bible verses read by my daughter. I was so proud of them both for getting through it. Also, a lovely lady who is an ordained minister, and knew Mum said prayers.
Over 80 people attended the church, after which immediate family went to a brief cremation ceremony at nearby Bockenfield Crematorium. This has been open for quite a short time: a much needed facility in this area. It is very well designed, simple and airy, with covered space outside and speakers in case the numbers overflow and a covered walkway for family to meet guestsafter the service, There are even comfortable sofas for close family at the front. The centrepiece is a beautiful antique wrought iron farm cart, that acts as a bier for the coffin.
Screenshot
A recording of one of Mum’s favourite piano pieces, Chopin’s Nocturne No.2 in E flat played as we went in, and Louis Armstrong’s “We Have All the Time in the World” played at the end, as it did at my Dad’s cremation.
Following that we joined the guests at The Northumberland Arms, Felton for refreshments. They had been a pleasure to deal with too and served a delicious hot and cold buffet.
It was an emotional, long day, but it went off without a hitch and it was lovely to share memories of Mum with family and friends, old and new. She would have loved it!
Today was the funeral of my lovely Mum, Gillian. I wrote and delivered this eulogy at the service we held for her today.
My Mum, Gillian was born in Newcastle on 15th February 1937, the first child of Ken and Wyn Holloway. I’m told that her form of the name (Gillian with a hard G) came from a character in a book that my grandmother had read. Mum was followed by her brothers: Peter in 1941 and Michael in 1946 .
Some of Mum’s earliest memories are of WWII. Once, on hearing a news broadcast on the wireless, she asked her mother if there was any news on the radio when there was no war on. During an air raid she huddled under the stairs with her mother who was holding her baby brother Peter. My Granny prayed, “God save my babies”, over and over again – that always makes me want to cry. The children spent happier times when, accompanied by their mother and cousins, Pat and Michael Porter and Anita, they were evacuated to the village of Ingoe, where they stayed in a very spartan cottage – there was no running water, just a hand pump at the end of a very steep lane, but they loved the countryside.
After the war the family enjoyed holidays on the coast and fell in love with Newton-by-the- Sea. My grandfather rented and later bought a secluded former quarry, a beautiful sheltered spot, where a series of family caravans have been sited ever since. The children spent idyllic summers there and on the beach.
Mum attended Newcastle Church High School, where she enjoyed sport (apparently she once accidently knocked out the games mistress with a hockey stick). She was in the South North’land Tennis Club .She also learnt to play the piano to a high standard. It was while she was still a schoolgirl that Mum first noticed my dad.
The family would go along to watch my grandfather compete in motorcycle trials There was a handsome young competitor, a rising star in the sport named Arthur Brown. Mum was smitten!
Mum left school after O levels, doing well in most subjects, including Latin – her party piece was to recite Humpty Dumpty in Latin. Mum did fail her geography O level though, which my Dad teased her about a lot – when they were out in the car it’s amazing that they ever reached a destination because he’d never ask her to navigate and he (typical man) would never ask for directions.
After school Mum went to commercial college and trained as a secretary. Her first job was at Martins Bank, after that she worked at was to become Proctor and Gamble – Mum became secretary to the Marketing Director. and was there when they developed the jingle for “mild green Fairy Liquid” She actually knew the second verse to that.
By this time Mum and Dad were going out. My grandfather was not exactly supportive at first (nobody was good enough for his daughter) – sometimes Dad took Mum to the same pub that my grandparents visited, always picking secluded seats by the back door for a quick getaway if the bar staff tipped them off that her parents had come in the front.
Mum and Dad married in 1958 and set up home in South Shields, where Dad was born and worked. Mum continued to work at Proctor and Gamble until I came along in 1960. My brother Chris arrived 3 years later. My parents first home was in Leafield Crescent, and a few years later they moved to Harton Grove. We had lovely neighbours in both places. When we were very small there were coffee mornings with lots of other small children and their Mums, Nan would babysit on Thursday night and my parents would have a night out. I also have lovely memories Mum taking us to the beach at South Shields, summers spent at Newton by the Sea and family holidays in Scotland and sailing on the Norfolk Broads.
On one sailing holiday the boat ran aground, Mum jumped ashore to push the boat off, but as she did so a gust of wind filled the sails and off went went leaving her behind. She was soon picked up by a motor cruiser which caught up alongside and Mum leapt gracefully from one boat to the other. It was so exciting
As we got older, Mum joined Dad working in the family motorcycle business, his father began, running the office and serving in the shop. She still managed to be home when we got back from school though. She looked after us and Dad and our pets (the guinea pigs, gerbils , hamsters, tortoise, fish) – the dog, Brett was all hers though.
Alongside all this she was also involved in the local church and, when my brother joined the scouts, Mum became heavily involved in a parents fundraising group, organising events like jumble sales and some rather raucous but very well supported cheese and wine parties …..and the scouts all the camping equipment they needed.
By this time Dad had joined the Rotary Club and Mum became a founder member of Harton Inner Wheel, resulting in more great friends. I’m told the conferences were particularly good fun, down to the great company of her fellow Inner Wheel ladies – she continued to meet them for lunch every month.
In the 1980’s Mum and Dad sold the business and both worked for the Motor Agents Association. Mum’s role was as a monitoring officer for a Youth Training Scheme. She checked up on trainees as they attended college and work placements, as mechanics, car salespeople and other roles in the industry, and soon became a familiar figure on garage forecourts and car showrooms across the area She told me that she’d feel so proud when years later, taking her car in for a service she meet a former trainee who’d done well following the scheme.
She became a mother in law for the first time when Kevin and I married in 1987. My only regret about our wedding is that we missed the after party. While we were travelling to our honeymoon destination, Harton Grove was partying hard. I’ve seen the photographs.
The following year Mum and Dad moved to Swarland. It was a carefully thought out choice, being close to the A1 for easy travel and near the coast, but just about out of reach of the sea fret. They loved it, totally embracing village life. They joined the golf club, Mum got Russ the labrador. She helped to run the Brownies (where she was known as Grey Owl), organised front of house for the drama group and joined the church here at Felton, helping with the flowers . She also rekindled her love of music singing in choirs, most recently the Bridge Singers.
Mum was a devoted grandmother to Caitlin and Calum. Whenever we visited for a weekend and arrived late on a Friday night, Mum would insist on chasing me and Kevin out to the Pub, however tired we were “Because I know you don’t get out much just the two of you”. Then she’d relish getting the children ready for bed and reading them stories. When the children were older they would come on longer visits without us, which they absolutely loved. Mum would make their favourites: apple pie, green jelly. And there was the magic turtle – a tiny ornament that would mysteriously fill up with sweeties when you weren’t looking.
Importantly, Mum made wonderful friends in the village and had the best of neighbours. The kettle was always on and the gin and tonics were always available, they even had a gate between their garden and that of their neighbours Hazel and Trevor, which saved time when they shared refreshments in the garden.
My brother Chris married Christine 2003. Ever the optimist, Mum had become convinced they would announce their engagement long before they actually did. In fact a bottle of champagne was put in and out of the fridge every time they visited over several months until it could be opened to celebrate properly
Mum looked after my father when he became ill. His death in 2002, not long after her own father’s death, hit Mum very hard, but she told me that if his death had to happen, at least it happened in Swarland, the place where they had been so happy and she was surrounded by so much love and support.
When we moved up here that Christmas it gave Mum the boost she needed .She looked after us too, and was delighted to be able to spend so much time with her beloved grandchildren.
The following Christmas Mum threw the first of her legendary Swarland parties. I think initially she wanted to do it as a thank you for all the support everyone had given her, but it soon became an annual event, with food, drink (the Strictly Final usually) and lots of friends and their offspring. Someone once told me that Christmas wasn’t really Christmas until Gillian’s Party.
Mum loved to travel. Holidays with Dad included Hawaii, California and Crete. Later she went on some epic trips with her sister in law Pat, to India, China, Canada and Alaska, South Africa and more, experiencing the Taj Mahal, The Great Wall, dog sleds and and safari. When this started we began to refer to it as Gillian’s Gap Year, but the travel went on longer than that. Pat told me about when they went to Thailand for a wedding. The Buddhist monks arrived to officiate and sat cross legged on the floor. Mum, always wishing to repect customs and culture sat down cross legged too. Only then the translator said the English visitors didn’t have to and she wondered how she’d get back up.
She also had some great holidays with her dear friend Margaret. They visited a number of European cities and went ski-ing in La Tania in the French Alps with my brother, Chris. She was extremely proud that she finally got her pensioners free lift pass aged 75. She also travelled to the USA for her niece, Julia’s wedding and then again in 2016 to visit her brother Michael and his wife Donna.
Mum’s health declined 6 years ago following an unusual mental illness. This came as a huge shock to all of us as Mum has always been the most grounded, level , calm person, and an absolute rock to so many. She recovered from this, though was frailer than before and then the symptoms resurfaced in 2022. Again she recovered but was frailer again. With the support of some wonderful carers she was able to continue to live in her own home in Swarland, the place she and Dad loved so much.
Mum had been really enjoying February. It was her turn to host our book club and we had a lovely evening. We drove to South Shields to have lunch with the Inner Wheel Ladies AND she celebrated her 87th birthday, with a family meal at the Cook and Barker. As usual, Mum ordered her favourite fish and chips, complained that it was far too big, before demolishing it, and dessert… and birthday cake! It was a wonderful evening. She was looking forward to meeting up with her nieces Judy and Wendy and great nieces Lauren and Juliet the following month.
Mum passed away suddenly on 23rd February. We had seen her ealier in the day and she was in good spirits. It’s still sinking in that she’s gone. I keep thinking “oh I must tell Mum about that” – I bet I’m not the only one.
As I wrote this there seemed to be some common themes running through Mum’s long, well-lived life. They make me think we should all be more like her.
She loved her family more than anything
She cared, and continued to care for all of us, whenever we needed her,
always putting others before herself . She could always be depended on and was everyone’s rock
She valued friendship and kept in touch with friends that she’d made at every stage of her life
She had a great sense of adventure and a wicked sense of humour
She was one of the most positive people I have ever known, always seeing the best in people and finding something good in even the worst of situations.
Stitches by the Sea 