An annus horribilus

Christmas has just gone and too many people are gone this year.  In 2018, I wrote Christmases past. It was a litany of deaths in the previous few years.

This year, my annus horribilus, is a litany of deaths in this one year: husband, colleague (DG), two cousins(MM), one the son of my cousin (K), the 17 year old neighbour and then our long-term lodger (PdB). 

Losing my husband shouldn't yet happen. He's younger than my father's healthy cousin. But yes, he was older than me and not quite well without being able to put your finger on what the problem was. The medics would put it down to his diabetes without double checking. He told them his diabetes was under control and it was. 

Maybe the next few years won't bring deaths. A respite.

House sharing

Without house mates to share in Leyton, it looked like I was going to have take a room in a local convent. That was not my style! But my thanks anyhow to Mother Cecil, the head teacher at the school in the Parish of St Mary & Michael who found me the room at the convent. At least it was very close to the Toynbee Theatre  where I went every week for amateur dramatics.  That am dram group taught me the value of networking and relationships for amongst my fellow players I found a flatmate Pat Stirland. I also acquired sequentially two nice boyfriends (N, R), a flat mate and Pat's stalker! 

Pat moved in with me in the school summer holidays and I never had to go to the convent. She came with a cat & a pregnant labrador. For some weeks, we had a very mucky kitchen with puppies wriggling everywhere.

Pat was divorcing, and having nowhere to live, reasoned that the best place for her two children was with their father. She took them away on holiday when she went down to Wales that August. She came back from the long drive absolutely shattered. We sat chatting on my bed, when a flash went off. Someone in the street was photographing the car she'd borrowed from a friend. The police came. Pat was so tired she was hardly conherent and the police asked me if she was drunk or on drugs. 

Pat stayed only a few months because she'd met a new man in Wales and moved in with him, but not before she found me a couple of other flat mates from her office: Loretta & Philomena. Philomena was from Dublin I think. And Loretta? South African? Philomena moved on. I can't remember how I knew Vera from Australia. She was a nurse on an intensive care unit. Somehow we also met Graham, and he took a room - I don't remember how we all fitted in! However, the landlord did not want male lodgers, and we didn't tell  - I was the main tenant. 

Diary Mon November 25 1974

Vera & Loretta and I, finding work for idle hands, have turned Graham’s room into a girl’s room and written him a note to tell him to sleep in the bath. We’ve put his books, bible and posters in the bathroom and even got a playgirl mag pin-up to put in “Joanne.” Room – now we’re just waiting for him to come home! We (Loretta & I) are skulking in bed  in anticipation.

Tuesday 2.15 am

He believed…. ‘til he saw the tampons, said it was too much,  then he found Vera’s labelled clothes in “Joanne’s” case”!!!

I gave up the tenancy when Vera and I went to India for a couple of months. When we came back she took a flat somewhere on the other side of London.  Eventually she went back to Australia and we kept in touch until 1978 when I sent her a piece of our wedding cake but the Australian post office had a massive strike, heaps of undelivered post that they couldn't cope with and burnt, so I lost touch with her. 

For the month after I moved out, before the tenancy finished,Graham shared the house with a homeless old school firend of mine, LJ - he called her Jacko - and saw her in London a few times so through her I vaguely knew what he doing. When email became a thing, he kept in touch. Now by email we compare our families and cancer treatments!

Sharing a house with fellow teachers

 IN the 1970s I shared a red-brick Victorian end of terrace two-up two-down house with two or three new teachers. It had no heating, and an outside loo that you reached by walking through the "bathroom" though that was only the corridor with an extra door and a bath under the stairs. Rent for each of us was something like £30 a month. 

Eee! it was cold. We got ourselves a paraffin heater to supplement the two bar electric heaters - both were fire hazards. Once, working in my bedroom, the cardboard behind my heater bent over it and caught fire in front of me. I had to grab the damp towel I'd just had round my head and used it to put out the fire. Another time, our visitor, Angela thought she'd warm the downstairs with the upstairs paraffin heater and despite it being lit she bounced it down each step of the stairs. But paraffin was cheaper than feeding the meter. 

One of the upstairs bedrooms was quite big with two windows, so someone had put up a partition splitting it into a couple of bedrooms. I had one and June the other half. Bernie had the back bedroom. We could hear each other fairly easily, especially June's cockney boyfriend, Tony. When he got cross, his language was interesting, especially when he objected to us neutering a little boy kitten. He was very fond of June. They'd been a couple since early college days. Officially he didn't live with us, the landlord not wanting men tenants, but Tony had teaching practice somewhere near so he moved in with us for several months.  Two people in a single bed room - it was a bit crowded but we all got on. 

One day early spring, June received an unexpected letter. She told Bernie and me that it was from Dave, someone she'd gone out with for a few weeks in sixth form. He had never forgotten her and would like to meet. Within weeks, the two were engaged and Tony had to move out. One sunny Saturday, June disappeared for the day and Bernie and I helped a distraught Tony to pack his stuff. 

Bernie had her own boyfriend troubles. She'd had a rotten boyfriend at college who'd broken up with her in the last term, and she missed him a lot. One evening she called me, (June was out with Dave), "Liz, I can't stop it bleeding." She'd cut her wrist. "Call John" she wanted. No. Instead we went to the local A&E where she told them that she'd fallen through a plate glass window while they put loads of stitches in her left arm. She'd missed doing serious damage by millimetres.  

To distract her, the following weekend in the heat of a summer's evening we went out to the cinema. The adverts were more memorable than the film, showing us a cool ski slope. So we planned ourselves a sking holiday the following Christmas. We went to Mayrhofen in Austria. (I started German evening classes, acquired some skill in the language and a would-be swain). Bernie had the latest sking gear - lovely stuff, but it turned out that she didn't like sking so she gave all the gear to me.  She sat alone in the hotel and I enjoyed the fresh air, having my first Christmas lunch by myself at the top of  a mountain. Wwe enjoyed the apres ski together.

At the end of that school year, June moved back to her mother's so she could save for their wedding, and Bernie, despairing for John, moved back to her native Wales. I had to find new flatmates, or move into a single room offered by a local convent.

Next Stage Choir and Arizona trip

Flags united

Years ago, pre-covid, husband and I signed up to go with the Next Stage Choir to Arizona, to sing with a partnered choir there: Sounds of the South West Singers. Covid stopped the trip happening in 2020 and again in 2021. Husband pulled out. When he was ill this April, I pulled out, but then when he died his children told me to un-cancel and to go. I did. It was awesome. 
My brother! My brother and SiL met me as I got off the coach from the airport (with a nose bleed). They'd driven the four hours down from Vegas and booked in the same hotel for three nights. They tolerated my jet lag and bought me margaritas. We went out to Falcon Field where our father trained to fly during the Second World War. We looked round the museum, its planes and a helicopter and a drone. I had another nose bleed. SiL bought a book and found a list of names of the RAF graduates.

RAF training at Falcon Field 1943

 They left on the Sunday of the baseball match - they weren't interested - been there, done that.

My hotel room was enormous, with a sitting room, big TV, a bedroom with another TV and a king size bed so high you had to jump to get into it - very comfy.

Hotel pool where I swam several mornings before breakfast
(after using the gym)

Jet lag meant I was up too early the first few mornings. Here's sunrise from my hotel room window.

Phoenix sunrise in September

What was most exciting? I don't know. Maybe singing "The Star-Spangled Banner" at the Arizona DiamondBacks baseball match in front of 25,000 people, or maybe just the rehearsal with our partner choir Sounds of the South West singers  in the corridor before we went on!

 Baseball Game  – Arizona Diamondbacks versus Milwaukee Brewers 

Later in the week, our partner choir hosted us at a BBQ and taught us baseball. The Mayor of Phoenix came and gave us gifts - a special T-shirt with an Arizona cactus on it. He also arranged for a singing cowboy to come and entertain us. 

On the Monday, the coach took us to Tombstone  and to the site of the O.K Corral . Then we went to Bisbee to  visit a Copper Mine. but that Monday was a holiday so everywhere else was closed.

OK Corale reenactment

On the Wednesday, the coach took us to Tortilla Flat Saloon Bar (where I didn't eat because I'd eaten enough already, so I drank some lemonade and mooched around the gift shop.  Then we went on a  Dolly Steamboat. Sadly it was too hot to sit outside and inside was too noisy to hear much of the explanation of the rock formations that we could see and how the south west Indians had interpreted them. But the company was fun.

Dolly Steamboat

We had a meal one evening at Kasai in Scottsdale. It was fine though some of the party grumbled about seating because some had to sit outside. 

 Or maybe it was visiting the Grand Canyon – South Rim. Husband and I went there ten years ago, and it was one of those moments when I missed him and couldn't even send him an email with a photo. 

Grand Canyon South side September 2022

Grand Canyon trains September 2022

Instead of walking along the path to see the view, I wandered down to see the trains again. 

 

Or maybe it was the acoustics at the church in the rock at Sedona on the way back from the Grand Canyon.. 

Sedona Chapel of the Holy Cross

Blurb about the dolls

We rehearsed or sang almost every day, which was great. Sadly, looking back at the original plans we were going to sing with Phoenix Boys Choir and we didn't. What else? I enjoyed was the company. Lots of people around to eat with travel on the coach with. At the beginning of the holiday, we rehearsed "God save the Queen". At the joint nine eleven concert, we sang, "God save the King".

Another lovely thing was that I met my old work colleague there - he moved out to Phoenix for the company circa 2002. His wife is a volunteer guide at the Heard Museum, knowledgeable and enthusiastic, and she volunteered to show those of our party who wanted to visit. They were so pleased that they wrote her a thank you card, and all signed it.

Here's some of the artifacts that I particularly noticed there; the Kasai dolls and this model of a maternal journey. 

Kasai dolls

Heard museum: Maternal Journey

Blurb explaining the Maternal Journey

 

I didn't see my friends, M & Em, for very long that first time, and they took time to see me again on the last day, when we were mooching around at the hotel, bas packed, rooms vacated and no coach to the airport till five o'clock. M & Em suggested we visit the Musical Instrument Museum. allow a lot of time for this because it is fascinatingly full - and I've never come across a museum like it - it must be unique. 

We went out for a Japanese meal

One of our outings was to a rather dramatic Japanese meal where they prepared the food in front of us. Every meal, every outing meant I mixed and mingled with choir members, not only my singing part, but all the others: and from the other two towns: sopranos, altos, tenors and basses. I enjoyed the company of all them, the scientist, the Aussie, the noisy one, the beekeeper. Such nice people. 

It was a great trip, distracting from the boredom and duties of home with a lot to do every day and great people to do things with, especially singing.

Leaving Phoenix

Warm and dry in La Motte du Caire

 The weather looks good for gliding at La Motte today. Sometimes you can't tell from a photo if it's good gliding weather. The 23rd August 1996 conditions were difficult with small thermals over the mountains, so the turns had to be tight. Tight turns are steep and the flying speed needs to be faster or your glider stalls (i.e. it stops flying and falls) but since you're turning, your glider then spins, which is interesting. 

La Motte du Caire airfield

Some gliders are better in the mountain conditions of Provence than others. Some gliders are more prone to spinning than others, especially if they're near the upper weight limit.

You can get out of a stall or a spin, and it's part of initial training that you learn to do that. And hope that you never stall or spin near the ground, or near another glider beneath you.

First day of the proms

 July 15th 2020 we went to the proms, leaving children in the charge of older adults. 

Today, Friday, is the first day of the proms. Step daughter #2 has just rung to ask if I want to come and watch it with them, but I've planned my evening already, with the best Booja booja chocolates and prosecco in front of the telly. I celebrated our 22nd anniversary in our usual watering hole with a glass of fizz. Daughter rang me (her breakfast time). I had a massage this morning. All in all, this hasn't been a bad day.

Father's day, again

 Yesterday was first dead husband's birthday, the father of my children.  Tomorrow is Father's day. Now my step-children don't have a father either. It's a bit crap.

The empty chair

 

Where he sat each evening

Positive or negative Easter

Today for the first time since Holy Saturday, I tested negative again for Covid. An hour later, I noticed the gadget showed a pink positive line that hadn't been there earlier but I guess I'm getting over it.

It'll take longer to get over the events of the last two weeks in my family though. If you don't know what's happened, then get in touch.

Teachers I remember

What is it some teachers do that make you remember them? 

That second year infant teacher at St P&Ps, who'd threaten to "tan your bacon". She used words I didn't know, but I watched her put a boy over her lap and smack his bottom. She told me off for not knowing the opposite of sharp was blunt. 

Mrs Pearce, 1st year juniors at P&Ps when I was too young to be in the juniors. I think that was her name. She was kind to me when I was very young and nervous.

Mr Warren, 2nd juniors at St M’s who gave Jacqueline D and me the ruler for talking. We weren't talking; we were facing each other. He told us that when we said "Man does this" it means mankind and includes the women and us girls in the class. 

Miss Thompson who taught French. I heard she was related to the priest and poet Francis Thompson. In first year, she taught her students about how the French make le poisson d’avril, paper fishes andpin them to the backs of the people they wish to tease. In second year, two of our class applied this knowledge. They were the two brightest (Peeny C? and Penny S?) and it was a bit odd that they were at the front asking her questions, but one was distracting her while the other pinned on the poisson d'avril. The class didn't realise until she was leaving the class room at the end of the lesson, when we all saw, but Anne B gasped out loud and Miss Thompson came back in demanding to know the reason. No way would I have said anything because it was too good a joke. She threatened the whole class, and I would have taken the punishment because it was worthwhile even though I'd not thought of it or done it. However, the culprits admitted it. 
Honestly, Miss T should have been laughing in the staff room with pride that her lessons had elicited such knowledge. 

Mr Ryan, my GCE maths who taught the year's bottom set and didn't expect much of me as he revealed when I got my results, “you did better than I expected." Thank you Mr Ryan. 

Mrs Bleslin helped me pass GCE maths because she taught me maths privately on Saturday mornings for nearly a year  She was Irish, widowed, and had had a stroke which was why she didn't teach in a school. She was lovely to me, encouraged me, gave me chocolate biscuits. 

Mrs Phyllis Dalgleish, collect head of drama who cared how her students did. Years later, I would have liked to contact her to tell her how much I appreciated her lectures and directorship of our productions but she'd died before the web provided a means of contacting her.

 Phyllis Ethel (Phyl), late of Digby Stuart College, Roehampton, passed away peacefully on 27 June, 2004. Cremation at Eastbourne Crematorium Main Chapel on Thursday, 8 July at 12.15p.m. 

And several OU tutors who marked my assignments and gave tutorials.

I remember them because there's an emotion connected with some learning incident - amusement, fear, worry, interest, pride. 

Favourite TV programs as a child

 My parents got a TV circa 1956, after my uncle had got one for all the family to watch the royal wedding. Our TV could get BBC and ITV. Nanna's got only BBC. 

There was Watch with Mother that I watched with my mother and smaller siblings. It varied every day, sometimes being Andy Pandy, sometimes Bill & Ben the flower pot men. I liked the Wooden Tops. Picture book was a bit boring - I think the reader talked down a bit to us.

We were allowed to watch children's television, which was before six o'clock, so I'd be sure not to dawdle back from school (then I was a big girl and didn't need collecting and an escort, and Mum had three smaller siblings to mind so wouldn't have come to fetch me). The offerings I remember were Ivanhoe, or The Lone Ranger, or Robin Hood, or Lassie. And Crackerjack. Crackerjack had a presenter with a name I'd not come across before - Eamonn - and he had a lovely velvety voice. When I was older, Blue Peter was fun.

Getting into teenage years, I heard at school what my friends were watching and came home to ask to watch them. Dr Who was on after six o'clock so that required a bit of discussion to persuade Mum we be allowed to watch it. It had William Hartnell as the Doctor and an unmemorable female minion - the culture of the time. And then the Daleks were so scary! I pretended not to be scared but smallest brother would hide behind the sofa and peek out. 

When we got nearer taking GCEs, Mum cut TV watching down, particularly worriying about its propensity to distract my brother as he also approached his exams. We couldn't watch on weekdays.  I never watched regularly again.