My mum. Always efficient, always on top of things. When she was physically able, and when I was young, she had systems and routines for everything. She had a day to do her housework, a day to do her washing. Her financial accounts – a system still maintained by Dad - are a wonder to behold. She and Dad shopped from a list, planning meals for the week in advance – no winging it with half an onion and a piece of mouldy cheese pulled from the back of the fridge for her. In fact you’d be lucky to find such things in her immaculate fridge. And what a cook! Her home-made birthday cakes and shortbread were better than anything I’ve tasted. Although I’m veggie now, I still remember with great fondness her beef stew and dumplings. On a Friday night, Mum would sometimes pull the kitchen table in front of the TV so that we could eat our stew whilst watching Crackerjack on TV. Bliss!
Nicky and I had such a happy childhood. Mum was always taking us out and about – to open air swimming pools, to the Hoe when we lived in Plymouth, to parks and places of interest. When we moved to north Kent, we spent weekends with her and Dad, visiting the parks and landmarks of London. Close to Christmas, Mum often took us to Regent Street and Oxford Street, doing battle with trains and buses and Christmas shopping crowds to look at the lights and visit Selfridges’ decorated windows. My mum was always busy, and she never sat down until all the day’s jobs were completed. Even when she sat down she would be knitting – at least until the horrible arthritis attacked and twisted her fingers. She would knit jumpers, cardigans and hats for everyone in the family – she even knitted suits for my cuddly toys after I’d chewed them until the stuffing was coming out! Almost every waking hour of my mum’s life was devoted to making life better for her family.
When I became a mum to my boys Joe and Nathan, Mum and Dad would try to visit us as much as possible, and when they came they would always bring with them a stash of thoughtful little treats: a can of Pringles for Steve and Nathan, a Victoria Sponge for me, a punnet of strawberries, clothes, books and toys for the boys. These things became routines in themselves. When Joe was young and I was working, Mum had the idea of inviting Joe to stay with them for half terms, and for many years this was what we did. I am so grateful for the very special relationship Joe enjoyed – enjoys - with his grandparents because of this, and I know he is too.
Mum loved our family Christmases and started planning for them weeks beforehand. One of her legacies to me has been a box of fruit jellies, because she bought one for Nicky, one for me, and one for herself and Dad – but I didn’t get mine because she wasn’t around to make sure I did! I’ve had it now though, Mum – thank you!
Looking from the outside, I would say my Mum and Dad had a wonderful marriage, for nearly 60 years. They were such a great team! They worked together to complete the day’s jobs. When we were young, my mum didn’t have paid employment during the day (later she had an evening job), but of course she worked hard at home – cooking, cleaning, school running, dressmaking, etc - so when Dad came home he would take over looking after my sister and I so mum could get the last of her jobs done and they could relax together. Of course, Mum and Dad didn’t agree about everything, but they were usually able to work out a compromise. They were rarely apart, but when Dad did need to go away for work, my Mum was unsettled until he returned – she missed him so much!
Talking after Mum died, Dad mentioned that he used to tell Mum he loved her virtually every day, but that she found it hard to say. As I sat in church a week or so after Mum died, the passage from 1 Corinthians [13] was read. Immediately it occurred to me that this picture of a love which is patient, kind, unselfish, honest, hopeful and persevering is also a picture of my Mum. She may not always have said that she loved us in so many words. She didn’t need to. She said it in everything she did and in everything that was important to her. Shortly before Mum died, when she was clearly very poorly, a doctor told Dad that he would need to make a decision as to whether to resuscitate, should the worse happen. She replied, “I love my family and I want to stay with them as long as possible”. And she fought hard to do just that.