My mother (Margaret Gwyneth Jones nee Richards) would have been 89 today and her best friend and my Godmother Aunty Tess (Tess Carter nee Bowyer), would have been 90. I find it difficult to believe that they have been dead for so long. My Mum died in 1995 and Tess died in 1998. Both were nurses and both were heavy smokers throughout their adult lives. My Mother once told me that they started smoking on the recommendation of their fellow nurses who informed them that smoking was the only sure way of removing the smell of corpses from their hands (they were both TB nurses at a time when TB was terminal so they had frequent and close contact with corpse's). This maybe true but, given that in the 1940’s virtually everyone smoked, I tend to doubt it. I’m also fairly sure that my two bald spots, one on each temple, were not due to a nurse incorrectly cutting my hair as a baby, which is what my Mother told me, but rather due to the fact that I was probably delivered by forceps. Why did she lie; was she afraid that I would be traumatised by the idea of a doctor yanking me out of her? Isn’t it strange how our perceptions change as we age, I distinctly remember, as a child, being utterly bewildered by the idea that my parents could and would die? I literally couldn’t imagine what that would be like it was unthinkable. Now that both my parents are dead (my Dad passed away as a result of a massive stroke, in Jan 2001, 6 weeks after Han was born - he managed, in the hospital, to hold her one time) and I’m still surprised about how un-traumatic both experiences were. When I visited my Dad for the first time after the stroke, before I’d even seen him, I was collared by the medical staff and asked to make a decision regarding resuscitation should his heart stop. After being given a run down on his condition and prospects I told them NOT to resuscitate and then calmly went into see the man I’d just sentenced to death.
If they’d lived Mum and Tess would have been genuine little old ladies, she was only 5 feet tall and Tess was a even shorter standing at 4 foot 10 inches in her stocking feet. Perhaps I’ll dig out some old photo albums today so that the kids can see what their grandma looked like; I don’t know if I have any of Tess I’ll have to look.
Tess played a huge role in my life, every summer (during the school holidays) from the age of 5 until I was 14 I stayed with her and her husband Ray in their palatial home in Porthcawl. My childhood years were split into two; 46 weeks were spent on a council estate in Abertysswg
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and for 6 weeks I hobnobbed with the rich and privileged of Porthcawl. Ray Carter, Tess’s husband, was a very successful high ranking chartered accountant with British Steel and wasn’t short of a bob or two and many of his and Tess’s friends, who I spent a lot of my time with, were seriously wealthy in their own rights.
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Tess once offered to pay for me to attend a private boarding school; I wish my parents had said yes I’d have had a totally different life. I’m not stupid, (I have Two Degrees and was half way through an MA when Deb final fell pregnant), but I am incredibly myopic and I think, like Nat, I have dyspraxia
These two things in combination (my eye sight problem was finally diagnosed when I was 10) meant that I had enormous difficulty learning to write and spell, consequently I failed my 11+ and was consigned to a dead end Secondary Modern School rather than a Grammar School. A private school would, probably, have picked up on these matters and I’d have likely turned out totally different as a result. Well it didn’t happen so that’s that, so I haven’t got a posh accent and I don't know how to talk down to Oiks (spelling?).
I did have a fantastic time in Porthcawl, what a difference lifestyle from that of kids today, including my own. At age seven I’d be out of the house by nine and wandering the fun fairs and caravan sites. I’d be off on my own in the open air pool at the Treco Bay caravan park. I had total freedom to wander just as I did back in Abertysswg.
To get back on topic, I was incredibly close to my Mum as a child and doted on her; she in her turn did everything she could to make my childhood a happy one, apart from getting my eyes tested the dipstick. I almost died as a baby, I was born with Pyloric Stenosis and it was touch and go for the first 18 months of my life. This may have accounted, in part, for the closeness of our relationship. We were inseparable and I’m sure my Dad felt completely excluded. My Dad was, in his own way, quite needed and I’m sure this played a huge part in their stormy marriage. In many ways I was never close to my Dad; I’m sure he expected a tough sporty child (much like himself) and instead he ended up with a sickly wimp of a mother’s boy. In fact we only became close after Mum passed away and Nat was born. He doted on Nat and I think he was impressed by how good a relationship Nat and I had. Perhaps this was why I was so angry with him when he went and spoiled everything by dieing; we’d finally connected and then, suddenly, he was gone. I’m so sorry that my Mum didn’t live to see the kids;she would have adored them. I know they’re both little bastards but grandparents wear rose tinted specs when it comes to their grandchildren.
Anyway, Happy Birthday Mum, Happy Birthday Tess wherever you may or may not be!
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