Memories of my Great Aunt Alice.

Aunt Alice Jarvis suffered with her health. I don’t know what the problem was. My Mum said that she loved to go out and she always recovered from her problem if there was talk of an outing. During her last years she lived in a cottage provided by some member of the “gentry”. As a child in the 1930s I remember thinking that “gentry” was a very old fashioned and rather snobbish word which I was surprised to hear still in use. Nowadays it is used again to describe improving old houses, “gentrifying” them. I have been surprised all over again!
I remember visiting her in my childhood when she was still living in the family home. There were chickens wandering in and out of the kitchen. The smell of an oil stove always reminds me of her kitchen.
A Mr. and Mrs. Becket lodged in the house at that time. I remember Mrs Becket. She was tall and gaunt, and she wore a man’s flat cap. I think she may have smoked a pipe but I am not absolutely sure of that. I can see her clearly standing at the foot of the stairs.
Aunt Alice stayed with us sometime before the war. While there she bought me a mussel shell with a ship painted in it. This was purchased at one of the cockle sheds in Leigh, not far from Hockley where I lived. Leigh is on the Thames estuary. I had the shell for years but now I don’t know where it is. She sent me a book for the Christmas of 1939, and she died not long after that.

RNLI at Anstruther, Scotland

I was so pleased to see the sea while I was in Scotland last year. It was particularly lovely at Anstruther where the waves were choppy and glittering in the sun. We had to force ourselves against the wind while walking round the harbour but it was glorious.
I am sure that the lifeboatmen of Anstruther will not mind me putting this picture here. It is from one of the Christmas cards that were in a mixed pack I had this Christmas just gone.

Easter

Snowy gardens on Easter Sunday 2008

A Tiny Church

I love miniature things.

Test picture

This lovely daffodil is a test publishing as I have had difficulties getting through today.

A Fox On Our Lawn

Memories of my dear Grandad Samuel

What can I write of my dear Grandad Samuel. I was only eleven on the verge of twelve when he died so my memories are necessarily those of a young child.
I remember him when he used to come and stay with us in Hockley in the 1930s. I remember one morning when I had had my breakfast and he was having his. The post came and there was a small packet for Grandad. It contained a dictionary that he had won doing a crossword puzzle. He had a look at it and then handed it to me. I still have that little red dictionary. It is in the bookcase in the conservatory.
Once he sent me a lovely postcard. The picture was of a big red rose. I had it for many years but now it is lost. Maybe it is in a large case full pf bits and pieces in our loft. I must get it down and see if it is there. There is even the possibility that it is in an old photograph album, but not very likely.
Another memory is of walking across the fields holding his hand. We were on out way to Hawkwell Church. I have a feeling that he was not a regular churchgoer but I am not sure of this. I don’t really know why we were going to that church.
I can see him now walking down the road where we lived in Hockley. He was carrying his old Gladstone bag as he was coming to stay.
My mother looked after him in our bungalow when he had his last illness. She looked after him during the day and a retired nurse cared for him at night.
I would go to see him every morning before I went to school and I went straight to him when I came home in the afternoon. One day I went to the bedroom as usual and I could not open the door. I am not sure where Mum was. Maybe she had gone for a neighbour’s help. Later I found that Grandad had died during the day. He died in my bedroom but I never had any fear of this having happened there. His spirit would have been a very gentle one. I slept in another room during his illness.
There is still a small mystery in my mind about the door I could not open. This door had no lock.

Cruel Necessity

I love the fells of Cumbria and North Yorkshire. Being old people now my husband and I do not get so far from home as we used to. I hope that we may get to Yorkshire some time this year and also to Scotland. We have family in Yorkshire and also in Scotland. I scribbled the following to try and convey something of my feelings.

Amongst the Fells

I want to go to the fells again,
To feel their presence in my heart,
To walk along lonely paths
With only sheep sounds.

I want to see the hawk hover
Along a ridge, searching the far down ground
With eyes of gleaming sharpness
For poor, small creatures.

I want the small creatures to escape
The cruel beak, but the hawk must eat
And feed its young. The only cruelty
Is cruel necessity.