Women's work:Sepia Saturday 166

This is a photo from my mother's collection and is of her and her colleagues from the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries. It was sometime in the late 1950s and the Ministry was based in prefabricated buildings in Stanmore, Middlesex. My mother was a shorthand typist.

Work Colleagues Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries 1956-7

Lovely's mum

This is her on the front row, bottom right. My mother worked there until I was born. I think she worked in the typing pool, but then from time to time she worked specifically for some of the Chief Executives. She told us one story, almost as a warning of the apparent dangers for women in the workplace. Apparently one of the CEOs had a bit of a reputation and when his regular secretary was away the temps would last a day or so and then run out of the office in tears. One day mum was assigned to his office. All was going well but after a couple of days he asked her to go over to the low table across the room and look up a phone number for him. As she lent over he jumped on her back and asked her to carry him across the room! She was shocked but kept her cool, stood up quickly, dislodging him and turned to face him. From that moment on she never turned her back on him. She told us he was extremely high up in the Civil Service but she would never reveal his name, even years later. How times change! Women then were expected to just put up with this type of behaviour and manage it as best they could. I have to say her tips stood me in good stead in my working life, as I certainly came across my share of slimeballs!

My mother worked in various secretarial posts. For a long time she worked for an accountant who did the accounts for the cake factory next door. She got me a summer job in the factory one year and my job was making cardboard boxes! I got very fast at it and was then told I was too fast and if I didn't slow down they would make the rest of the production line work faster. I slowed myself down by readiing the paper at the same time as making the boxes.

Mum's last job was at the Commonwealth Development Corporation.  While she was there she met Prince Charles!

Lovely's mum meets Prince Charles

Eulogy

We wrote the Eulogy for my mother's funeral service. I really wanted to remember her for the times in her life when she was healthy and vibrant and not the last few weeks. I decided to publish it here.. I have changed a few names as it is a public blog but I don't really expect many people to read to the end!

Lovely's Mum- the original Spice Girl

There are a few things about Lovely's Mum that you might not know.

She might have appeared a quiet and unobtrusive person, but underneath that exterior there was the heart of an adventurer; a free spirit with a sense of humour, a keen wit and an eagle eye.  Long before ‘Girl Power’ Lovely's Mum was doing what she really really wanted!

She was born on her mother’s birthday and grew up as an only child, describing her own childhood as quite lonely. However this forced her to be self sufficient and to seek out her own entertainment. When she was evacuated to rural Shropshire with her mother during the War, she became a teenage rebel. Her mother fretted as Lovely's Mum became fascinated with the local gypsies, running off into the woods to watch them roasting hedgehogs over their open fire.

The War was a difficult time and she spent much of it in fear of what would happen to her if the Germans invaded. However, these experiences seemed to spur her on to explore and discover other places and cultures. Shortly after the end of the War she and a friend got on their bikes and cycled through Northern France wearing the shortest of shorts! They started in London and made it as far as Reims, a distance of some 269 miles as the crow flies. France was still recovering from occupation at the time and they made people laugh by asking for coffee with cream, something that had not been seen for a while! They slept in fields, on one occasion in a brothel and on another in the cell of a local police station, when the local Gendarme took pity on them. And it would seem that this love for cycling was something which Lovely's Mum passed on to the little Lovelies!

Lovely's mum in her shorts

Also around this time Lovely's Mum became pen-pals with someone in Minnesota, as part of a project organised to link up young people from different cultures. Lovely's mum and Loris wrote regularly to each other for the rest of their lives. Loris visited London in the 1960s and Lovely's mum repaid the visit in the 1980s, making the news in the local papers and radio. The last letters they exchanged were last Christmas.

Lovely's mum and Loris

She also visited the Soviet Union before the end of the Communist regime, with a friend from work. Her one frustration was that she couldn’t speak any Russian and communicate with the people she met.
She would never turn down an opportunity to travel when she was in good health. When Youngest Lovely was sent on his first business trip t o New York, he half jokingly said to her “you can come if you want”, not really expecting her to say yes. Well he obviously underestimated her tenacity and she jumped at the chance; and so Youngest Lovely was accompanied on his first proper business trip by his mother, who enjoyed several days of 5-star luxury in the Big Apple!
She also enjoyed many walking holidays and her most recent trip was to Eastbourne in May, with friends from her apartment block. In one of Lovely’s last conversations with her she said that she was still planning to visit her in her new house in France when it was finished and would soon sort herself out a new passport.

Lovely's Mum was not a drinker, although she would occasionally have a glass of wine. This aversion to alcohol stemmed from her 21st Birthday party. Her parents had organised a big family party and she celebrated by downing a whole bottle of port. The ‘other side’ of her character then  emerged and the quiet Lovely's Mum was replaced by a far more outrageous version as she systematically  went round all the invited guests and told them exactly what she thought of them. This was much to the embarrassment of her mother who refused to talk to her the next day (although in later years it was a story she loved to tell everyone). From that day Lovely's Mum decided that the excesses of alcohol were not for her and she preferred to keep her wilder side well and truly hidden.

Lovely's Mum met Lovely's Dad on the tennis courts at the Civil Service sports club. A friend bet him that he couldn’t get a date with this young girl, as he was quite a bit older than her. They underestimated Lovely’s Mum's sense of adventure. She described Lovely's Dad as being far more dynamic and energetic that any of the men her age. Marrying someone 26 years your senior was a controversial thing to do in the 1950s but she never let what people thought stop her from doing what she felt was right. When people said, “well with that age difference you won’t be having any children”, she replied by saying “oh yes we will, lots”. She refused to wear a white wedding dress, saying the colour didn’t suit her, and on the morning of her wedding she returned from the hairdressers and washed out the shampoo and set, preferring a more natural look.

Lovely's Mum and Lovely's Dad

Lovely's Mum never liked to push her opinions on others but she did have them and was not averse to expressing them in a well penned letter. She was particularly fond of the cricketer, Ian Botham. She entered into a serious correspondence with John Junor of the Mail on Sunday when he wrote an article accusing him of being a foul mouthed yobbo. She concluded her letter to John Junor by saying
“When I read your remarks I felt like “planting one on yer” which is what us true foul mouthed yobbos say!! “ and signed the letter
“Yours ever, Lovely's Mum”.
The following year she sent a letter to Ian Botham himself when he announced his retirement. It said
“Just a short ‘thank you’ note for the many hours of wonderful cricket. I have enjoyed your playing career especially because you have always appeared to be so competitive and keen to win. Cricket will be the loser on your retirement, but thank goodness for ‘son of Botham’- there is still hope.”

As a mother, Lovely's Mum had a very relaxed approach to parenting.  She certainly didn’t “sweat over the small stuff”.  Domesticity was not one of her great loves and it suffices to say that from fairly early on we all learnt to do our own ironing, if we were being fussy.  She was loyal, loving and always there to pick up the pieces if things went wrong.  In her own quiet way she inspired us to be true to ourselves and lead the lives we really wanted to.

Lovely'a Mum did not like being the centre of attention and she will probably be cringing now at all this fuss. She would want to be remembered as she was in life; her own person, determined, adventurous, thoughtful and considerate to others and definitely not ‘plain vanilla’.

Lovely's Mum on her 80th birthday with the little lovelies

Signed The Little Lovelies, August 2012

The end

In the end the end came quickly. Over the weekend she seemed to be asleep more than she was awake and when she was awake she pulled out her feeding tube. My sister watched her in a physiotherapy session and the only time she seemed to respond to anything was when she heard my sister's voice. Another feeding tube was inserted but she pulled it out almost immediately. Hard to know whether this was just a response to the sensation or a conscious decision on her part. If it was the latter I can't say I blame her. My sister was called to say that her breathing had deteriorated but by the time she arrived she was already dead. The most likely immediate cause was that she had been sick and inhaled her own vomit. We were left with mixed emotions as a life as the one that loomed ahead of her had she survived would have been no life.

Now it is over the idea that she was unwell for only 3 weeks before she died seems relatively short compared to what some people suffer but in the middle of it we suffered every minute of it with her and it felt like an eternity.

All change again

Wow, just when life is ticking over nicely something comes along to pull the rug from under your feet and to stop you feeling too complacent. I got the call last week that everyone who lives away from their family dreads. "Call me urgently, it's about mum" In my family this means business.

Mum had not been seem all day and when someone went to check they had found her collapsed on the toilet. Looking at the fact that the breakfast things were still out, she must have been there since morning. My sister arrived at the same time as the paramedics and she was taken to the nearby hospital where she was admitted, having had a very large bleed into her brain. It was critical and I had to come.

It's amazing how quickly you can do things! Ian had booked my flight for the following morning and I had packed my hand luggage in half an hour. We had to leave at 5.00a.m. the following morning and I worked hard through the night to get my head round the fact that my mum was dying and I might not make it in time. Sleep was never really going to be an option.

At the airport the following day I noticed that red eyes mean you get given plenty of space in the waiting room! I made my way from Gatwick to Heathrow, seeing the first arrivals for the Olympic Games at Terminal 4 in a slightly surreal atmosphere. From the airport I got a lift to the hospital. She was in the acute stroke unit and we were given unlimited visiting (not a good sign). As I arrived I saw the red eyes and worried looks of my brother and sister and then saw a person in the bed who had some features of my mother but really wasn't her. She was wired up to a drip as she was unable to swallow and was being given fluids, but that was it. The bleed had affected over one third of her brain and was untreatable. We spent the weekend waiting.

On Monday, the doctors returned from the weekend, surprised to find that she was still there with relatively stable vital signs, although she had a chest infection. At this point they started a more active treatment approach and treated her with antibiotics and started to feed her through a naso-gastric tube. By Tuesday she was a little more responsive. She is able to follow us with her eyes, hold hands and move her left arm and hand. The worst of it however is that I think she is able to understand a reasonable amount of what is going on but can't speak or communicate in any other way. I really at this stage don't know what I wish for and what is possible.

Arriving in London in the countdown to the Olympic Games, in an unplanned way, with just hand luggage is a really unsettling experience. Today I booked a flight home in a weeks time and I will go whatever happens, even if I have to return again quickly.

Happy Birthday

Despite her protests to the contrary I think my mother quite enjoyed her 80th birthday party. We had tea, wine, sandwiches and cake in the company of the other residents. We didn't stay late and we cleared up afterwards and my mother even managed a smile for the camera! This is all of us! (Photo by Ian).

Weekly update: on destiny

Time for my weekly post. I seemed to have settled into a once weekly post at the moment. I would like to do more but will have to be content with this. There are no shortage of things to write about and I often compose blog posts in my head whilst on the way to some place, or when on the train, or when sitting at my desk trying to work! However I never seem to get time to write them all down.

I had plenty of time to think on Friday as most of it was spent sitting in the car park that is the M25 (composing blog entries in my head). I went  to Windsor to take my mum to a hospital appointment that lasted all of 20 minutes. What was nice was that we then had plenty of time to talk and have lunch together; a rare occurrence in these days. She will be 80 in a couple of weeks so we talked about that and also about my planned move to France. To her, this must seem like the end of the earth, but then she thought that when I moved from London to Eastbourne! Anyway, I think she is coming around to the idea. We looked through her old photograph album together and that prompted her to talk about my grandmother (her mother)

"She always wanted to run a bed and breakfast..she rather liked cooking and always thought it would be a lovely thing to do..it was one of the things that she regretted not doing.. ." (She had many regrets about her life)
Funny, I never knew that about her. I also never knew that my grandfather  learnt to speak French quite well at the age of 50. My mother couldn't remember why he suddenly took it up other than to say that he was rather good at spoken French (not something I have inherited!).

So, perhaps, somehow, without realising it, I am attempting to live out some of the unfulfilled dreams of my Grandparents by going to France, to breed llamas and run a small B&B. Mind you, unfulfilled dreams are always full of excitement, fun, positive thoughts, hopes and wishes, whereas the reality may be less dreamlike!

Mother's tales

Today was spent visiting my mother and she was in good form. She is properly settled into her apartment now and seems to enjoy having other people nearby to the extent that it has given her the confidence to get out and about when she can. She is certainly slow and unsteady on her feet and I can understand her reluctance to walk what for her seems a long distance when it is all up hill. This is made worse by the fact that the pavements and kerbs on her route are broken, uneven and there are no suitable places to cross the street. I was going to take some photos of her trying to get around and send it in to the local council only I ran out of memory on my camera. It will have to wait until my next visit. We had a nice meal in the local curry house. Perhaps a strange choice for an Easter Sunday but I haven't had curry for ages and my mother also enjoys it from time to time. We walked up and back and then sat to rest for a while in her flat.

My mother spent most of her life as a secretary to various men. She started in the civil service and then worked for an accountant, finishing off in a big charitable organisation. She was able to take shorthand, was a touch typist and was also involved in organising the day to day life of her boss. I suppose we would now call her a Personal Assistant. She worked before the days of Internet, emails and computers when the 'boss' never wrote or composed anything himself and at best would dictate a letter for her to edit and type and present for signing. She watched the story of the senior government official who had to quit because he sent some ill advised email with some amusement.

"I thought to myself.. in my day if you had a good secretary this wouldn't have happened. We all worked for these men who were always apt to do stupid things, because after all, they are men! Your job as a secretary was to watch out for them, and if they looked like they were about to do something stupid you tactfully asked them if they were really sure they wanted to send that letter or note and pointed out what might happen if they did"

Nowadays of course once you press the SEND button the damage has been done and can't be undone, you type your own letters, and if you have a secretary and if he or she is bright enough to work out that you are about to be a bit of an ar*e then they would immediately send a copy of the email to the local tabloid journalist and take the cash reward!

My mother's Sunday lunch

Ian and I visited my mother today. She lives in Windsor and fortunately we arrived just after Prince Harry and his troop had marched down the road to receive their medals! We sneaked in and whisked her off before they returned! (She stood outside and watched them go past but her main comment was reserved for the young policeman that was kind enough to try to make conversation with her who she thought was no more than 15 years old!) We took her to a nearby restaurant for lunch where she munched her way through an enormous plate of roast beef and turkey with all the extras and then apple pie, ice cream and a large cappuccino. It was nice to see her and she seemed to enjoy the change! She is still convinced that she has no appetite.

My mother's therapist

On the surface my mother comes across as an easy-going elderly woman who just wants to do all she can to please everyone, but underneath this she is a very determined and stubborn woman. I was discussing this with Ian tonight and he laughed and said 'just like her daughters'. I was having a conversation with her about her bed. She told me that her mattress wasn't comfortable and she wanted a new one; I tried to persuade her to have one of the electric beds that would help her sit up, but she had talked to a few other people that had them and decided she didn't want one as they took up too much room. 'Fine', I said. 'We'll just get you a nice new mattress that is more comfortable' (Ian later said 'is this the horrible old bed that we tried to persuade her to throw away when she moved but she insisted she bring because she really liked it!). She wanted me to bring a measure with me and when I asked why she said so that I could measure the height of her bed and see how much higher her new matress would be as then she could get up easier. Now, my whole professional life has been spent helping people to find ways to get out of bed so had she told me in the first place that she was having difficulties getting out of bed then I might have been able to come up with a number of solutions! However, I realised a while ago that I cannot be my mother's therapist! I took this opportunity to try to persuade her to see an occupational therapist (not me) privately and explained how it was very difficult for me to approach her and work with her in the way I would work with clients but what I could do was find her a good therapist. She would probably have to pay for it but then she has some money and it would be a good investment. 'But what could this person do for me that you can't?' she said. I explained again about how difficult it was for me to act as her therapist and she seemed to understand. 'But how do I know that this person will be able to help me?' she said. I said. ' Well, perhaps you can let me be the judge of that in this case.. it is what I have been doing for 35 years'! She laughed and I said I would talk to her about it next week! I don't think I have much chance of getting her to agree to a referral! My brother tried to arrange a doctors appointment for her but she refused, saying that she would do it herself! My sister-in-law wants her to have acupuncture but she has even less chance of persuading her to pay for someone to stick needles into her than I do of getting her to see a private therapist.

I think that when I am her age I will probably be exactly the same as her so I guess we must just learn to allow her to make her own decisions at this stage in her life, and accept them, even if they are not the ones that we want her to make.

(Funny, until I started writing this entry I could not see it so clearly)