We held my mother's funeral yesterday. I delivered the eulogy and I had to cut down the text I prepared from the 16 minute version to one of only 5 minutes. It was nevertheless well received and as a result I've been asked by many of my relatives to post the full version, so here it is.
For those close to my mother over the last 3 months it is all too easy to remember the pain and the anguish she suffered. It is difficult to remember that there were times when she was happy. I want to remind you of those times and I'm not going to talk about the bad stuff.
I am constantly in awe of people who stand up and can produce a magnificent list of achievements that their Great Aunt Maud managed through a long and fruitful life. I've been racking my brains and I can't think of any earth shattering achievements my mother had, except that she survived, and not only that, but had 5 healthy children. If that sounds a little demeaning, I think if anyone had asked Joan "what was the your crowning achievement in life?" I believe she would have replied "my children", and if you had asked, "what else was there?" she would have said "my grandchildren".
My mother had a remarkable life seeing and experiencing things most people can only dream of.
Joan went to India at age of 7 with her parent's and younger brother while the Raj was still strong and looked like it would last forever. She was brought up surrounded by the splendour of the Raj and servants and had an Arma (children’s nurse). Recently told me that at one stage she went to school in a Brougham with the governors daughter with a governess and an arma on each side of them
When she was 14 she had a terrifying experience that stayed with her for the rest of her life. She survived the Quetta earthquake of 1935 - 7.7 on the Richter scale. The effect on her still showed right up until the end used to sleep with the door of her bedroom open because as any of my brothers and sisters can tell you "doors jam shut in an earthquake". But on the other hand after the quake while the place was still being rattled by aftershocks she put on her Girl Guides uniform and went down to the devastated city and handed out tea and bandages to the soldiers clearing the debris right in the centre of the city. She told me she decided to stand somewhere clear of rubble and made her station on edge of the bridge leading into town - something that only years later she realised was extremely dangerous.
Joan met, fell in love with, and married Mac her husband of 47 years, in India. They were married in Rawlpindi and lived in India for the first 10 years of their married life. As a result I was brought up on endless stories of romantic places like Simla, Poona, Srinaga, Mahd Island and Ceylon; of trips to the Murey Hills; of servants and bungalows, maharaja’s and regimental balls; of 4 day long train journeys with the whole family in tow complete with all the furniture and a pregnant dog. Then there story about the frog jumping on her head in the middle of a typhoon and the one about the huge toad that came into her bedroom every night and that Denise had to take further and further away in a bucket only for the toad to return every day... the stories were endless.
It wasn't all fun though. After WW2 broke out Mac returned to England just ahead of the fall of France with Joan and Denise in tow. Soon after at the height of the "Phoney War" he was posted back to India, and many months later, in the middle of the Battle of the Atlantic when the German U-boats were ravaging convoys Joan and Denise were posted back too. Many of the ships in the convoy were hit and Joan helplessly watched them burn and sink. They were spending Christmas in Cape Town when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbour paradoxically making the leg up the east coast of Africa slightly safer.
The first three children were all born in what was then called India, but now includes India and Pakistan. Towards the end of the war Joan and family (Denise and Richard) followed Mac to Ceylon. Joan was entranced by the place, and it was there she got her first job - working in a transport section and living in a bungalow on the beach close to the Mount Lavinia hotel.
After the end of the war they "stayed on" in the Indian Army for a while living almost completely cut off on a tropical island, Mahd Islad, near Bombay where Christopher was born.
And then back to England for a few years (during which Joan had to learn how to cook and do housework - no servants now) before a further tour aboard - Germany, Egypt and Cyprus - during the Enosis troubles there. A while after we moved out of one place we lived in a bomb was found under it - how long it had been there was a not known, but once again, her luck paid off.
Finally Mac left the army and Joan and the now 5 children were permanently in England. Before long we moved to Beaconsfield where she remained for 24 years, 20 of them in Burnham Ave where the house and the swimming pool came a focus for the ever increasing number of grandchildren and the biggest black Labrador you have ever seen, the beloved Brutus, the last in a long line of dogs Joan looked after from Blackie through Vicki, Delilah and many others.
Joan's love for children was the focus for her life. She loved each and everyone of her 5 children with a passion and each grandchild was a equal delight to her. She even took on looking after 3 of the grandchildren, Adrian, James and Katie for a while their father found his feet after his wife died, something I know each of the three treasures and remembers with a great deal of love and affection.
She believed as a mother she was always right, and always knew what was best for each of us, no matter our age. Just after Christmas I went to visit her and she started telling me that I should eat more bananas, as "they are good for you". She gave me some memorable advice. When I told her I was being bullied at school she told me to tell the boys "My mother told me to tell you to stop it". She had advice about any topic under the sun and would dole it out at the drop of a hat - some of it was quite bizarre but always well meant.
She always treated each of her children as if he or she was 10 years old, in the kindest way, but to her we were all eternally 10. When I recently pointed out my grey hair to her recently in reaction to this and she smiled and said "Oh Darling, I can't see them, you know my eyes are bad".
My mother, because of her life in the tropics, hated the winters but came alive as soon as it started to warm up. We had a boat, the White Osprey, on the river Thames which we got when I was about 10 and had for about 5 years. She loved going down to the river and used to spend hours and sometimes weeks at a time down there doing it up; a pot of flammable varnish in one hand and a lighted cigarette in the other.
The boat gave rise to numerous adventures. On one occasion when out on the river with Chris moving the boat during the spring swell she fell overboard while wearing a pair of wellies.
She disappeared on one side of the boat and everyone frantically searched that side only for her to pop up on the other side of the boat - the wellies had acted like divers boots and she had walked under the boat and up the bank! She was very shaken by the experience but within an hour or two was laughing about it.
Several years after the White Osprey had been sold I was delighted when she went out and got a boat 'of her own' not the families, not hers and Mac's but just hers. She loved her little "Whimsy" and spent many a happy hour down at Marlow doing it up. Eventually that was sold too and the money went to buying a winter retreat in the sun.
She and Mac had for some time been spending the winters abroad and eventually discovered Fuengirola in the Costa del Sol just before anyone else did. They bought a lovely apartment right on the front and Joan would spend hours just soaking up the sun and watching the world go by from their second floor balcony. She learnt quite a lot of Spanish, though she used to confuse the locals by mixing the occasional Hindi or Urdu word. She loved Spanish tappas - boccaroni (anchovy fillets in olive oil and garlic) where a particular favourite.
When Joan lost Mac a lot of the direction in her life went with him, but she carried on going out to Fuengirola alone or with me and Janet or with Sarah with Charles (before Toria was born). She even had a boyfriend a Norwegian called something like Knut took a fancy to her and they went out regularly for a few months.
When in England she settled in Tylers Green and to everyone's amazement, not least for her, she spent 22 years there. She discovered the Lemon Tree (now the Stix) and a wide circle of friends, not least the owners Mario and Nathalie.
I remember being shocked rigid when early on being persuaded to take her down the for a drink. Mario said to Joan "OK Bang-Bang, that's enough" when she start going on about something - I had never heard anyone speak to my mother like that - I expected an explosion. My mother was, as far as I was concerned, someone who demanded respect, but to my surprise she laughed. She loved the nickname she had earned through banging on about things and she loved Nathalie and Mario too.
She still travelled. I was delighted when she came out and spent a month with me in Malaysia - she loved the spicy Asian food and the climate and fitted right in. She even went out with the Hash House Harriers for a walk rather than a run in the Jungle - not bad for a lady then in her 70's. As well as Malaysia she and I visited Singapore and she went off and explored Hong Kong all by herself. When it came time to leave Malaysia I made the mistake of taking her to a Divali party at an India friend of mine's house - she instantly became the focus of attention for everyone there. We arrived 5 hours before the flight and made it to the airport with only seconds to spare, she just didn't want to go.
She carried on going out to Spain having all sorts of adventures until her eyesight started to fail and I know she really missed the place - we were talking about Spain only a month ago.
As well as travel and children Joan had two other passions, which ultimately did her no good.
She loved her cigarettes but to everyone's surprise earlier this year she gave them up when told to by her doctor with almost no hesitation. She had almost completely quit when she had her fall in September and despite the pain and discomfort that caused her she never picked up a cigarette again.
Her other love was, without making any bones about it, whiskey. I can't tell you how much she drank, but I expect to see a drop in profits of the distillery now she has gone.
But most of all she lived for company. Even when she was getting frailer the high point of her week would be Thursday. A trip to the hairdressers and then a trawl around Waitrose before retiring to the Lemon Tree or later Stix for a much looked forward to chat with her friends over a scotch or three.
Joan was never happier than when at the centre of a party and at the centre of attention.
I could tell you about the incredible jumpers she knitted, the toys she used to make, her cooking, and her love of reading and crosswords and cross words, but there is a limit to your patience.
But now she is gone... It doesn't seem possible, she was always there, always ready with a pointed comment like "Your hair is too long" but given with genuine love and pleasure to see you, and now she isn't here...
But in fact she is still here you know... in our hearts and our minds and looking around the room I can see her staring back at me in the faces of my brothers and sisters and in their children and grandchildren too.
I'll never forget her, she was after all, pretty unforgettable, wasn't she?
Joan 1920 - 2008
For those close to my mother over the last 3 months it is all too easy to remember the pain and the anguish she suffered. It is difficult to remember that there were times when she was happy. I want to remind you of those times and I'm not going to talk about the bad stuff.
I am constantly in awe of people who stand up and can produce a magnificent list of achievements that their Great Aunt Maud managed through a long and fruitful life. I've been racking my brains and I can't think of any earth shattering achievements my mother had, except that she survived, and not only that, but had 5 healthy children. If that sounds a little demeaning, I think if anyone had asked Joan "what was the your crowning achievement in life?" I believe she would have replied "my children", and if you had asked, "what else was there?" she would have said "my grandchildren".
My mother had a remarkable life seeing and experiencing things most people can only dream of.
Joan went to India at age of 7 with her parent's and younger brother while the Raj was still strong and looked like it would last forever. She was brought up surrounded by the splendour of the Raj and servants and had an Arma (children’s nurse). Recently told me that at one stage she went to school in a Brougham with the governors daughter with a governess and an arma on each side of them
When she was 14 she had a terrifying experience that stayed with her for the rest of her life. She survived the Quetta earthquake of 1935 - 7.7 on the Richter scale. The effect on her still showed right up until the end used to sleep with the door of her bedroom open because as any of my brothers and sisters can tell you "doors jam shut in an earthquake". But on the other hand after the quake while the place was still being rattled by aftershocks she put on her Girl Guides uniform and went down to the devastated city and handed out tea and bandages to the soldiers clearing the debris right in the centre of the city. She told me she decided to stand somewhere clear of rubble and made her station on edge of the bridge leading into town - something that only years later she realised was extremely dangerous.
Joan met, fell in love with, and married Mac her husband of 47 years, in India. They were married in Rawlpindi and lived in India for the first 10 years of their married life. As a result I was brought up on endless stories of romantic places like Simla, Poona, Srinaga, Mahd Island and Ceylon; of trips to the Murey Hills; of servants and bungalows, maharaja’s and regimental balls; of 4 day long train journeys with the whole family in tow complete with all the furniture and a pregnant dog. Then there story about the frog jumping on her head in the middle of a typhoon and the one about the huge toad that came into her bedroom every night and that Denise had to take further and further away in a bucket only for the toad to return every day... the stories were endless.
It wasn't all fun though. After WW2 broke out Mac returned to England just ahead of the fall of France with Joan and Denise in tow. Soon after at the height of the "Phoney War" he was posted back to India, and many months later, in the middle of the Battle of the Atlantic when the German U-boats were ravaging convoys Joan and Denise were posted back too. Many of the ships in the convoy were hit and Joan helplessly watched them burn and sink. They were spending Christmas in Cape Town when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbour paradoxically making the leg up the east coast of Africa slightly safer.
The first three children were all born in what was then called India, but now includes India and Pakistan. Towards the end of the war Joan and family (Denise and Richard) followed Mac to Ceylon. Joan was entranced by the place, and it was there she got her first job - working in a transport section and living in a bungalow on the beach close to the Mount Lavinia hotel.
After the end of the war they "stayed on" in the Indian Army for a while living almost completely cut off on a tropical island, Mahd Islad, near Bombay where Christopher was born.
And then back to England for a few years (during which Joan had to learn how to cook and do housework - no servants now) before a further tour aboard - Germany, Egypt and Cyprus - during the Enosis troubles there. A while after we moved out of one place we lived in a bomb was found under it - how long it had been there was a not known, but once again, her luck paid off.
Finally Mac left the army and Joan and the now 5 children were permanently in England. Before long we moved to Beaconsfield where she remained for 24 years, 20 of them in Burnham Ave where the house and the swimming pool came a focus for the ever increasing number of grandchildren and the biggest black Labrador you have ever seen, the beloved Brutus, the last in a long line of dogs Joan looked after from Blackie through Vicki, Delilah and many others.
Joan's love for children was the focus for her life. She loved each and everyone of her 5 children with a passion and each grandchild was a equal delight to her. She even took on looking after 3 of the grandchildren, Adrian, James and Katie for a while their father found his feet after his wife died, something I know each of the three treasures and remembers with a great deal of love and affection.
She believed as a mother she was always right, and always knew what was best for each of us, no matter our age. Just after Christmas I went to visit her and she started telling me that I should eat more bananas, as "they are good for you". She gave me some memorable advice. When I told her I was being bullied at school she told me to tell the boys "My mother told me to tell you to stop it". She had advice about any topic under the sun and would dole it out at the drop of a hat - some of it was quite bizarre but always well meant.
She always treated each of her children as if he or she was 10 years old, in the kindest way, but to her we were all eternally 10. When I recently pointed out my grey hair to her recently in reaction to this and she smiled and said "Oh Darling, I can't see them, you know my eyes are bad".
My mother, because of her life in the tropics, hated the winters but came alive as soon as it started to warm up. We had a boat, the White Osprey, on the river Thames which we got when I was about 10 and had for about 5 years. She loved going down to the river and used to spend hours and sometimes weeks at a time down there doing it up; a pot of flammable varnish in one hand and a lighted cigarette in the other.
The boat gave rise to numerous adventures. On one occasion when out on the river with Chris moving the boat during the spring swell she fell overboard while wearing a pair of wellies.
She disappeared on one side of the boat and everyone frantically searched that side only for her to pop up on the other side of the boat - the wellies had acted like divers boots and she had walked under the boat and up the bank! She was very shaken by the experience but within an hour or two was laughing about it.
Several years after the White Osprey had been sold I was delighted when she went out and got a boat 'of her own' not the families, not hers and Mac's but just hers. She loved her little "Whimsy" and spent many a happy hour down at Marlow doing it up. Eventually that was sold too and the money went to buying a winter retreat in the sun.
She and Mac had for some time been spending the winters abroad and eventually discovered Fuengirola in the Costa del Sol just before anyone else did. They bought a lovely apartment right on the front and Joan would spend hours just soaking up the sun and watching the world go by from their second floor balcony. She learnt quite a lot of Spanish, though she used to confuse the locals by mixing the occasional Hindi or Urdu word. She loved Spanish tappas - boccaroni (anchovy fillets in olive oil and garlic) where a particular favourite.
When Joan lost Mac a lot of the direction in her life went with him, but she carried on going out to Fuengirola alone or with me and Janet or with Sarah with Charles (before Toria was born). She even had a boyfriend a Norwegian called something like Knut took a fancy to her and they went out regularly for a few months.
When in England she settled in Tylers Green and to everyone's amazement, not least for her, she spent 22 years there. She discovered the Lemon Tree (now the Stix) and a wide circle of friends, not least the owners Mario and Nathalie.
I remember being shocked rigid when early on being persuaded to take her down the for a drink. Mario said to Joan "OK Bang-Bang, that's enough" when she start going on about something - I had never heard anyone speak to my mother like that - I expected an explosion. My mother was, as far as I was concerned, someone who demanded respect, but to my surprise she laughed. She loved the nickname she had earned through banging on about things and she loved Nathalie and Mario too.
She still travelled. I was delighted when she came out and spent a month with me in Malaysia - she loved the spicy Asian food and the climate and fitted right in. She even went out with the Hash House Harriers for a walk rather than a run in the Jungle - not bad for a lady then in her 70's. As well as Malaysia she and I visited Singapore and she went off and explored Hong Kong all by herself. When it came time to leave Malaysia I made the mistake of taking her to a Divali party at an India friend of mine's house - she instantly became the focus of attention for everyone there. We arrived 5 hours before the flight and made it to the airport with only seconds to spare, she just didn't want to go.
She carried on going out to Spain having all sorts of adventures until her eyesight started to fail and I know she really missed the place - we were talking about Spain only a month ago.
As well as travel and children Joan had two other passions, which ultimately did her no good.
She loved her cigarettes but to everyone's surprise earlier this year she gave them up when told to by her doctor with almost no hesitation. She had almost completely quit when she had her fall in September and despite the pain and discomfort that caused her she never picked up a cigarette again.
Her other love was, without making any bones about it, whiskey. I can't tell you how much she drank, but I expect to see a drop in profits of the distillery now she has gone.
But most of all she lived for company. Even when she was getting frailer the high point of her week would be Thursday. A trip to the hairdressers and then a trawl around Waitrose before retiring to the Lemon Tree or later Stix for a much looked forward to chat with her friends over a scotch or three.
Joan was never happier than when at the centre of a party and at the centre of attention.
I could tell you about the incredible jumpers she knitted, the toys she used to make, her cooking, and her love of reading and crosswords and cross words, but there is a limit to your patience.
But now she is gone... It doesn't seem possible, she was always there, always ready with a pointed comment like "Your hair is too long" but given with genuine love and pleasure to see you, and now she isn't here...
But in fact she is still here you know... in our hearts and our minds and looking around the room I can see her staring back at me in the faces of my brothers and sisters and in their children and grandchildren too.
I'll never forget her, she was after all, pretty unforgettable, wasn't she?
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment