When i grew up my father and i had a better relationship. I was married to a much older man and had four step-children who were not much younger than i was.This caused me many problems and the first year of my marriage was fraught, to say the least. Dad was always there to listen to my woes and gave me a lot of valuable advice, not always what i wanted to hear! I had my two sons and i felt closer to my dad at this time than i ever had done. He was the best grandfather you could ask for. When my sister's beautiful baby girl died we were all devastated and i'll never forget when dad came to my house to tell me what had happened. He looked terrible and couldn't stop crying. I hadn't often seen him cry and it affected me deeply. I don't think he was ever the same after that.
Dad has his first heart attack when my daughter, Emily, was only a few months old. My sister-in-law, Val ,and i both had new babies and we spent a lot of time at the hospital,feeding them in the toilets! I think our children thought it was normal for grandads to be in hospital and for us to be visiting day after day.We were so happy when he was allowed home. Our happiness was short-lived , for the first night at home he had a stroke and had to go back to hospital, where he remained for many months.He changed after his stroke; his brain was damaged,he had lost his speech and was paralised down one side.It took a long time and an enormous amount of hard work before he was allowed home. It was particularly difficult for my mother, at this time. She had lost the man she had been married to for all those years and in his place was a man-child who needed 24 hour care and who gave barely anything in return.
Of course he couldn't help it, he hadn't asked to be struck down at 47 yeas of age, and sometimes when you looked in his eyes you could see the bewilderment he felt at his predicament. He was very child-like and would have temper tantrums when he became frustrated at not being able to do something.He would often wave his walking stickabout in anger, and woe betides anyone in the way!But, he was also funny in a child-like way and would tell silly jokes that the small ganchildren found extremely funny. They accepted grandad as he was, after all they couldn't remember him any other way, and they loved him. I felt angry at what had happened to my dad and sad that, just as we were becoming closer, he was snatched away from me.
I moved with my family to the north-east and not long after mum and dad followed. They lived in a bungalow about a quarter of a mile away from me so my husband and i helped out as much as we could and, once again i felt close to my dad.They didn't stay long in the north as they missed their family and friends from their church in Sittingbourne and decided to go back.Dad had turned to religion soon after he had his stroke and the church and the people of St Mary's parish were a source of great comfort to both he and my mum. Dad loved to join in with the singing and especially enjoyed getting dressed up for carnivals or fetes. I have lovely photos of him, my children and my brother's children dressed as Irish pixies!
Dad died when he was 53. Although he had been ill for a long time it was a huge shock for us all.He was in hospital but we thought it was just his normal,checks on blood,drugs ect. I was devastated to receive a phone call from my sister in law to tell me he had died and so sad that I hadn't been able to see him before he died. It took me a long time to come to terms with his death and for a while i didn't deal with it at all, pushing it to the back of my mind. It was years before i actually grieved properly.
Today i often think of my dad. I wonder what he would think of all his grown-up grand-children, especially those he didn't get to see. I wonder how he would feel about having a great grand-daughter. I think he would be very proud of them all.Not many of them remember him very clearly and some not at all. My sister decided to write down her memories of dad to enable them to get to know him and asked me to do the same. It has been a pleasurable experience for me and brought back many happy memories. I hope it helps to fill the gaps for those who didn't know him.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
Memories of being "Young"
My father was only nineteen when i was born. I don't think he had planned to become a dad at such an early age but i arrived and he had to make the best of it. My brother arrived 22 months later, followed by my sister when i was four,and I don't really have any memories of my dad until my sister came along. The first memory i have is of a holiday on the Isle of Wight. I think i was about five, Malcolm three and Julie a small baby. I remember we stayed in a caravan and the weather was absolutely awful. It poured every day and we couldn't go out. It must have been a nightmare for our poor parents, three small children in a tin box , and nothing to do.Then dad decided to go out for a while and came back bearing gifts, a toy for each of us! I can still remember the jack-in-the-box that he bought me,vividly.
Dad worked for British Rail, first as a shunter, and then as a guard. We travelled everwhere by train and to this day i really love going somewhere on the train. When i was at secondary school i travelled to school by train. I was so proud when dad was the guard as he allowed me to sit in the guards van with him and ring the bell that told the driver it was safe to go. My friends thought this was cool!
At Christmas we used to go to my Granmothers, Nan Young, for Boxing day. This would be a huge family gathering , lots of aunties and uncles and many cousins. There was a lot of food consumed, dozens of presents opened and great fun had by all. We slept over and often had to share one bed between three, or four children. The next day we went home on the train, which involved going from Surrey to Victoria and then catching another train down to Kent . My brother, Malc, would always fall asleep during the journey and dad would try to wake him up just before our stop. It was impossible: Dad would stand him up, put his coat and hat on, pick him up and carry him home , where he would be undressed and put to bed.Through all of this he remained asleep! He reminded me of the doormouse in Alice in Wonderland!
My memories of family holidays are both good and bad. Dad built the most amazing sand boats for us. They were huge and we could all sit in them and pretend that the tide would come in and we would soon be bobbing up and down on the waves. He also liked to bury us in the sand , often up to our necks! I once lost my silver bracelet in Devon during one of these "burials".
I had been buried up to my neck and when dad dug us out the bracelet had gone. We spent ages digging around in the area but to no avail, it had vanished! I remember feeling very cross with dad as i'd had it since i was a baby. Dad tried to cheer me up by taking us for lunch but believe me , in our family, this was no picnic. We would set off to look for a cafe, or a fish and chip shop. Dad would find one and we would be about to go in when mum would shake her head and say it was filthy, we weren't eating there. Then mum would find one and dad would say he wasn't paying those prices! And so it would go on and on and on..... Often we children would be starving and tearful by the time we found somewhere that met the criteria demanded by both parents.We laugh about it now, but i remember how the smell of chips would make my stomach rumble and i would be cursing my parents under my breath!
I don't think i had a great relationship with dad when i was younger. He was so young when i was born, really just a boy. I was jealous of his relationship with my younger sister, Julie. Looking back i feel that by the time she came along he had learned how to be a dad and she benefitted from it. She looks like him and has dark curly hair and big brown eyes. She used to turn those puppy dog eyes on him and he'd be lost. He was always picking her up and swinging her and i have strong memories of them laughing together. I used to wish he would be like that with me. We did have some fun times though. I remember going to the social club at weekends .We would run riot with our friends while dad and the other railway men played cricket.My dad wasn't sporty but he would join in the game and sometimes even made some runs! Then, we would all go back to the club for tea and in the evening there would be music, dancing and a bar! Dad would often have a little too much to drink and, much to the embarassment of his kids, perform his party piece- a striptease!! Luckily he stopped short of nudity.
Dad was a fantastic grandad. He loved all his grandchildren and used to rough and tumble with them or tell them silly jokes. When he and mum decided to move to Surrey to look after his mum and dad we missed them but tried to visit often and we had plenty of family get togethers, including holidays. The sandboats were built for the grandchildren, who loved them as much as we had. Christmas was fun too. The pile of presents for my children almost concealed the christmas tree. Mum and dad would come round with armfuls of parcels and put them under the tree and then watch happily as they were opened with squeals of delight.
Dad worked for British Rail, first as a shunter, and then as a guard. We travelled everwhere by train and to this day i really love going somewhere on the train. When i was at secondary school i travelled to school by train. I was so proud when dad was the guard as he allowed me to sit in the guards van with him and ring the bell that told the driver it was safe to go. My friends thought this was cool!
At Christmas we used to go to my Granmothers, Nan Young, for Boxing day. This would be a huge family gathering , lots of aunties and uncles and many cousins. There was a lot of food consumed, dozens of presents opened and great fun had by all. We slept over and often had to share one bed between three, or four children. The next day we went home on the train, which involved going from Surrey to Victoria and then catching another train down to Kent . My brother, Malc, would always fall asleep during the journey and dad would try to wake him up just before our stop. It was impossible: Dad would stand him up, put his coat and hat on, pick him up and carry him home , where he would be undressed and put to bed.Through all of this he remained asleep! He reminded me of the doormouse in Alice in Wonderland!
My memories of family holidays are both good and bad. Dad built the most amazing sand boats for us. They were huge and we could all sit in them and pretend that the tide would come in and we would soon be bobbing up and down on the waves. He also liked to bury us in the sand , often up to our necks! I once lost my silver bracelet in Devon during one of these "burials".
I had been buried up to my neck and when dad dug us out the bracelet had gone. We spent ages digging around in the area but to no avail, it had vanished! I remember feeling very cross with dad as i'd had it since i was a baby. Dad tried to cheer me up by taking us for lunch but believe me , in our family, this was no picnic. We would set off to look for a cafe, or a fish and chip shop. Dad would find one and we would be about to go in when mum would shake her head and say it was filthy, we weren't eating there. Then mum would find one and dad would say he wasn't paying those prices! And so it would go on and on and on..... Often we children would be starving and tearful by the time we found somewhere that met the criteria demanded by both parents.We laugh about it now, but i remember how the smell of chips would make my stomach rumble and i would be cursing my parents under my breath!
I don't think i had a great relationship with dad when i was younger. He was so young when i was born, really just a boy. I was jealous of his relationship with my younger sister, Julie. Looking back i feel that by the time she came along he had learned how to be a dad and she benefitted from it. She looks like him and has dark curly hair and big brown eyes. She used to turn those puppy dog eyes on him and he'd be lost. He was always picking her up and swinging her and i have strong memories of them laughing together. I used to wish he would be like that with me. We did have some fun times though. I remember going to the social club at weekends .We would run riot with our friends while dad and the other railway men played cricket.My dad wasn't sporty but he would join in the game and sometimes even made some runs! Then, we would all go back to the club for tea and in the evening there would be music, dancing and a bar! Dad would often have a little too much to drink and, much to the embarassment of his kids, perform his party piece- a striptease!! Luckily he stopped short of nudity.
Dad was a fantastic grandad. He loved all his grandchildren and used to rough and tumble with them or tell them silly jokes. When he and mum decided to move to Surrey to look after his mum and dad we missed them but tried to visit often and we had plenty of family get togethers, including holidays. The sandboats were built for the grandchildren, who loved them as much as we had. Christmas was fun too. The pile of presents for my children almost concealed the christmas tree. Mum and dad would come round with armfuls of parcels and put them under the tree and then watch happily as they were opened with squeals of delight.
Thursday, 29 October 2009
The christmas stork.
Every year at christmas , my family, along with many others , looks forward to the giving and receiving of presents. Except in my family we look forward ,especially ,to opening the presents from my mother.
Mum has the knack of finding gifts that no-one else would dream of giving. Plastic wallets and bottles of beer, giant knickers and bright red lipstick. One year i received a huge nightdress. It was cream and made of a shiney, satin material . It looked like a massive tent and i was mortally offended. Yes, i am a large women but that nightie could have accomodated the whole family in one go!
The christmas before last my youngest son opened one of his presents to find a carton with a picture of a digital set-top box. He was delighted as he had wanted one for the television in his bedroom. He didn't open the box but put it to one side to open later. The other children (all grown ups) were envious of this present as none of them had received anything like it. Only the usual bits and bobs. When i spoke to mum on the phone later i told her how pleased Jonathan was with his digital box. She denied any knowledge of it and it took me a while to convince her that she had actually given it to him. Eventually she conceded that she bought things and wrapped them at different times in the year so didn't always remember what she had bought for people. Weeks later i found out from Jonathan that when he had opened the box it had contained two bottles of beer! Mum had used the box to wrap the bottles in. He was disappointed but managed to see the funny side. No wonder mum couldn't remember the digital box.
This year, because of the postal strikes, mum decided to buy her presents early and when my sister and i went for a visit in September she gave them to us to bring back. She issued strict instructions not to open them until christmas day.There was a huge present which she said was for me. She said that it had originally been meant for my sister-in-law but having asked her if she liked garden ornaments and been given a negative answer, she decided to give it to me! We duly loaded the car with boxes of presents but the big one had to travel in the back seat with me. Egged on by my sister and her partner i had a good feel of the parcel to see if i could work out what it was. Mum had said it was something for the garden and knowing her predelection for gnomes we thought it must be an enormous gnome! My sister suggested we opened the door and ,accidently, let it fall out. I'm ashamed to say we opened the parcel and lo and behold there stood a great big bird. We couldn't work out if it was a pelican, or a crane but eventually came to the conclusion it was a stork.
Soon, we had to take a comfort break at one of those large service stations on the motor -way. We parked the car and Philip set up his camping stove to make tea for us all. My sister and i, who share the same zany sense of humour, decided to give the stork an airing. It was mounted on a spike so we stuck it into the grass in the car-park and left it there while we went to the loo and then ate our lunch. We took some bread over to the stork and pretended to feed it. A smart land-rover came and parked next to us and the women passenger watched our childish antics in amazement. When we packed up to go and loaded the bird into the back seat she looked incredulous. I think she thought the bird was an ornament belonging to the service station to make the place look pleasant and that we were stealing it. We drove off , killing ourselves laughing, half expecting the police to be following us.
Once home i didn't quite know what to do with the giant bird. I tried sticking it in the lawn by the bird-table but it looked grotesque and would have frightened any real birds away. So, i took it to the bottom of the garden and placed it between two large fir trees. It peeked out
furtively. My dog saw it and backed up to the corner of the garden, where she stared at it and growled fiercely. I don't think she could quite work out what this strange creature was.
The bird remains there to this day. I haven't the heart to get rid of it, even if i did acquire it by default. When christmas finally arrives I must remember to thank mum for her lovely present
I hope she never finds out it has been in the garden for months..
Mum has the knack of finding gifts that no-one else would dream of giving. Plastic wallets and bottles of beer, giant knickers and bright red lipstick. One year i received a huge nightdress. It was cream and made of a shiney, satin material . It looked like a massive tent and i was mortally offended. Yes, i am a large women but that nightie could have accomodated the whole family in one go!
The christmas before last my youngest son opened one of his presents to find a carton with a picture of a digital set-top box. He was delighted as he had wanted one for the television in his bedroom. He didn't open the box but put it to one side to open later. The other children (all grown ups) were envious of this present as none of them had received anything like it. Only the usual bits and bobs. When i spoke to mum on the phone later i told her how pleased Jonathan was with his digital box. She denied any knowledge of it and it took me a while to convince her that she had actually given it to him. Eventually she conceded that she bought things and wrapped them at different times in the year so didn't always remember what she had bought for people. Weeks later i found out from Jonathan that when he had opened the box it had contained two bottles of beer! Mum had used the box to wrap the bottles in. He was disappointed but managed to see the funny side. No wonder mum couldn't remember the digital box.
This year, because of the postal strikes, mum decided to buy her presents early and when my sister and i went for a visit in September she gave them to us to bring back. She issued strict instructions not to open them until christmas day.There was a huge present which she said was for me. She said that it had originally been meant for my sister-in-law but having asked her if she liked garden ornaments and been given a negative answer, she decided to give it to me! We duly loaded the car with boxes of presents but the big one had to travel in the back seat with me. Egged on by my sister and her partner i had a good feel of the parcel to see if i could work out what it was. Mum had said it was something for the garden and knowing her predelection for gnomes we thought it must be an enormous gnome! My sister suggested we opened the door and ,accidently, let it fall out. I'm ashamed to say we opened the parcel and lo and behold there stood a great big bird. We couldn't work out if it was a pelican, or a crane but eventually came to the conclusion it was a stork.
Soon, we had to take a comfort break at one of those large service stations on the motor -way. We parked the car and Philip set up his camping stove to make tea for us all. My sister and i, who share the same zany sense of humour, decided to give the stork an airing. It was mounted on a spike so we stuck it into the grass in the car-park and left it there while we went to the loo and then ate our lunch. We took some bread over to the stork and pretended to feed it. A smart land-rover came and parked next to us and the women passenger watched our childish antics in amazement. When we packed up to go and loaded the bird into the back seat she looked incredulous. I think she thought the bird was an ornament belonging to the service station to make the place look pleasant and that we were stealing it. We drove off , killing ourselves laughing, half expecting the police to be following us.
Once home i didn't quite know what to do with the giant bird. I tried sticking it in the lawn by the bird-table but it looked grotesque and would have frightened any real birds away. So, i took it to the bottom of the garden and placed it between two large fir trees. It peeked out
furtively. My dog saw it and backed up to the corner of the garden, where she stared at it and growled fiercely. I don't think she could quite work out what this strange creature was.
The bird remains there to this day. I haven't the heart to get rid of it, even if i did acquire it by default. When christmas finally arrives I must remember to thank mum for her lovely present
I hope she never finds out it has been in the garden for months..
From a very young age i have suffered from acute anxiety. This has had a major effect on my life, preventing me from enjoying myself and from doing the things i want to do. Everything i said or did would be subject to analysis. I would go over, in my head, the things i had said to someone or how i had behaved and worry that i hadn't said the right thing , or behaved correctly. Even a simple thing, such as a visit to the doctor, would involve me ,sitting, going over and over what i was going to say when i went into the surgery and invariably, once in there, i would say something completely different .
In my teens i loved music. I would go to discos but would spend the whole time sitting on a chair or propped up against the wall resisting my friends attempts to pull me onto the dance floor. Oh how i longed to get out there and dance. In my head i was gyrating to the beat along with the rest of them , in reality i was too anxious about making a fool of myself to join in.
When i married, in my twenties, it was to a much older man. I spent most of my marriage anxious about the image i presented. I didn't want to appear too young and frivolous so dressed older than my years and acted more like a forty year old than a young women. Pregnancy brought forth new anxieties, would my baby be healthy, would i be a good enough mother, would my husband love my children as much as he loved the children from his first marriage? With each child's birth there would be relief that everything had turned out fine but the next time i became pregnant i would be convinced that ,this time , something would go wrong. I didn't deserve to have another healthy baby. My children, apart from the usual parental worries, did not cause me too many anxieties. They didn't judge me and i didn't need to worry about how i behaved with them.Being a mother was a joyous and fulfilling role for me. My children were a constant source of delight to me, and still are, even though they are all grown up!
The old anxieties continued throughout my thirties and forties. I hated meeting new people,worried about parent's evening , sports day, options meetings ,any occasion where i had to speak to someone in authority or give my opinion. I tried helping out in my daughter's class at school, and while i loved working with the children, listening to them read, or helping them with art projects, my anxiety about having to go into the staff room at break time or during lunch made me feel physically ill and i had to give it up. I began to think that i would still be a pathetic anxious person, worrying about how people percieved me, when i reached pensionable age. Thankfully i no longer believe this to be so. I am now fifty three years old, menopausal, fat, diabetic and past my prime , but at long last i seem to be losing my inhibitions. At last i can truly say that i don't care what other people think of me. If i want to sing on the sing star, i will.If i want to wear a short skirt and high heels i will. If i make a fool of myself being loud and silly, who cares? Not me. As long as i don't hurt anyone by my actions i can do as i like . It has taken me a long time but i think i am slowly getting there. I can dance to the music! Goodbye anxiety , and good riddance.
In my teens i loved music. I would go to discos but would spend the whole time sitting on a chair or propped up against the wall resisting my friends attempts to pull me onto the dance floor. Oh how i longed to get out there and dance. In my head i was gyrating to the beat along with the rest of them , in reality i was too anxious about making a fool of myself to join in.
When i married, in my twenties, it was to a much older man. I spent most of my marriage anxious about the image i presented. I didn't want to appear too young and frivolous so dressed older than my years and acted more like a forty year old than a young women. Pregnancy brought forth new anxieties, would my baby be healthy, would i be a good enough mother, would my husband love my children as much as he loved the children from his first marriage? With each child's birth there would be relief that everything had turned out fine but the next time i became pregnant i would be convinced that ,this time , something would go wrong. I didn't deserve to have another healthy baby. My children, apart from the usual parental worries, did not cause me too many anxieties. They didn't judge me and i didn't need to worry about how i behaved with them.Being a mother was a joyous and fulfilling role for me. My children were a constant source of delight to me, and still are, even though they are all grown up!
The old anxieties continued throughout my thirties and forties. I hated meeting new people,worried about parent's evening , sports day, options meetings ,any occasion where i had to speak to someone in authority or give my opinion. I tried helping out in my daughter's class at school, and while i loved working with the children, listening to them read, or helping them with art projects, my anxiety about having to go into the staff room at break time or during lunch made me feel physically ill and i had to give it up. I began to think that i would still be a pathetic anxious person, worrying about how people percieved me, when i reached pensionable age. Thankfully i no longer believe this to be so. I am now fifty three years old, menopausal, fat, diabetic and past my prime , but at long last i seem to be losing my inhibitions. At last i can truly say that i don't care what other people think of me. If i want to sing on the sing star, i will.If i want to wear a short skirt and high heels i will. If i make a fool of myself being loud and silly, who cares? Not me. As long as i don't hurt anyone by my actions i can do as i like . It has taken me a long time but i think i am slowly getting there. I can dance to the music! Goodbye anxiety , and good riddance.
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