And here are pictures of some of the individual items. I have put thimbles in some of the pictures to indicate the size. I had hoped to upload a lot more, but blogger refused to co-operate. Maybe I'll do some more another day.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Miniatures
I have been a compulsive collector over the years, sometimes starting a collection based on something I've inherited, and sometimes beginning with an item which has caught my eye in the antiques and bric-a-brac markets. This is about my collection of miniature items, inspired by a similar collection belonging to my favourite aunt. I did not inherit it, and so determined to start my own collection, as I already had a number of small items which had come from my mother and grandmother. This display case stands about 20" high and is about 20" wide. I bought it when I was living in Belgium and brought it back to the UK when we came home. You can see what a mass of little objects I have accumulated.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
Leaving school: a mature student's view
When the battle against closure of my son’s secondary school was eventually lost in 1988, I saw a possibility that I might, as Chair of Governors, be asked to make a speech at the final assembly. I began to draft one, but it ended up as something quite different, more like a personal testament. It is true and heartfelt, and definitely part of the story of my life. But I wasn’t asked to make a speech!I was a student at The School rather longer than most – ten years to be precise. When I entered its doors at the same time as my son in 1978, I little thought that I would, in a manner of speaking, end up as ‘head girl’. Nor could I imagine that, at the height of its success, the school would be earmarked by County Hall for closure.
The School was just a name on a list to me when the youngest of my four sons was due to transfer from primary school. He was unwilling to follow in his brothers' well-trodden footsteps at nearer schools, and said we should look at this one, even though it was away in a neighbouring village. We looked – we were hooked – we signed on, and my son began the normal process of secondary education. As this was the ninth school with which I had been associated over the years, I decided it was high time for me to contribute something , and I offered my services to the Parent Teacher Association.
Thus began a whole new career for me, starting as a simple kitchen assistant at school functions, moving through PTA secretary and parent governor, and ending in the Chair of the governing body as a Local Authority governor. The way took me through fairs, markets and music halls; making Christmas decorations for dances; writing a termly newsletter for parents; drafting a PTA constitution; creating publicity displays; and raising £6,000 in ten months for a new minibus. It also brought me the schizophrenic experience of campaigning vigorously against closure of the The School, while at the same time working closely with another governing body towards creating a new amalgamated school, in case the inevitable happened.
I learned about organisation, administration and planning ahead; about committee procedure and running a meeting; about writing minutes, reports, and letters to the press, and about speaking in public. I learned about tact and diplomacy (I hope), confidentiality, carrying responsibility, and catching the buck when it stops. I learned about the workings of County Hall, and discovered that the ‘faceless bureaucrats’ of the education service are real people, who eat lunch and crack jokes from time to time; and that county councillors have to have tremendous stamina and commitment to carry out the work of the Authority. What I failed to learn, alas, was to delegate, to be brief, and not to worry!
I think I can fairly say that during my years at The School I did as much learning as any of its pupils, and if they had half as much fun, and gained as much benefit, as I did, I am truly thankful. The School was like a second family to me - a family that was happy and successful, because like all happy families there was love and dedication at work there. When The School finally closed, and like the younger students I too had to move on, I hoped that I, as well as they, would find new opportunities to learn, to succeed and to be happy.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Self-portrait
I took this picture of myself because I was particularly pleased with the cheeky little flick my hairdresser had given to my white streak in front, and I wanted to have a picture of it to show her, so that she could repeat it. So I set my camera to 'macro', and got a reasonable picture of the flick, and a seriously revealing one of my life and laughter lines, both good and bad! I was surprised at how well it turned out, actually, and decided I would not be shy about sharing it. It was taken in June this year in my 79th year. The one in yesterday's post was taken three years ago.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Where do blogs go ...
... when the owners die?
In My Documents I have a folder called 'My Executors', to which my sons can have access when they need to deal with my estate. From time to time I add what I hope will be helpful bits of information for them, such as my last requests, details about the way I would like my funeral to be, useful facts about my house etc. Yesterday I found myself adding this:
"If you boys want to know who your mother really was in the last years of her life, you should refer to my blog. I feel that it is some sort of memorial for me, a twentyfirst century headstone, as it were, for a burial in cyberspace."
In My Documents I have a folder called 'My Executors', to which my sons can have access when they need to deal with my estate. From time to time I add what I hope will be helpful bits of information for them, such as my last requests, details about the way I would like my funeral to be, useful facts about my house etc. Yesterday I found myself adding this:
"If you boys want to know who your mother really was in the last years of her life, you should refer to my blog. I feel that it is some sort of memorial for me, a twentyfirst century headstone, as it were, for a burial in cyberspace."
And then I got to wondering. Will our blogs just stay there on the web, living on for ever after we have gone, but static and lonely, with perhaps just the occasional comment from a new reader, but no further input from the creator? How sad! ..... Or maybe the hosts will keep an eye on them, and note how long they have remained static, and eventually give them the chop. Even sadder!! I mean, is cyberspace ever going to be FULL?
And my next thought was that I should write my valedictory blog now, and leave it in the file, with a note that they are to post it for me when I can no longer post for myself. But who knows? Perhaps by then I shall be in another place where I can post telepathically ... wouldn't that be fun?
If I must write my epitaph, I think I'll say: "I had to laugh!"
Monday, October 02, 2006
My life in short bursts
Before the beginning - 2
My parents met after the first World War. Throughout the war my father had been interned in Germany, where he had gone at the age of 19 to improve his knowledge of the language. His prison camp was a converted racing stables at Ruhleben, near Berlin, where the 4000 men and boys from all walks of life slept in the horse-boxes. The prisoners succeeded in developing a complete society there during the four years of the war, including their own postal system, and my brother and I have inherited some interesting memorabilia. Sadly, the experience had a profound effect on my father, and left him shy and retiring and reluctant to undertake new ventures.
My mother had wanted to go to university. Illness prevented this initially, and by the time she was better, my grandfather had apparently decided that such an education was not appropriate for her. The result was that she spent the rest of her life trying to find something to exercise her brain, above and beyond being an excellent wife, housekeeper and mother. Sometimes she found something worthwhile, such as Marriage Guidance Counselling, and sometimes she was less successful. My brother and I have very uncomfortable memories of the period when she was reading books about psychology!
My grandfather, who, I believe had himself had a 7-year engagement, insisted that my parents should not marry until my father was earning enough to keep my mother in the same degree of comfort and respectability in which she had grown up. After three years my parents found this too much to bear, and went off ostensibly to a tennis tournament one afternoon, but came back married! This caused much frostiness in my mother’s home, but all was eventually forgiven. My other grandparents also put pressure on: my parents wanted to emigrate to New Zealand and farm sheep there, but my father’s mother would not accept such a distancing from her only son. (I did not feel able to breathe a whisper of protest when my eldest decided to emigrate to Australia – but it’s a different world now.)
What have I inherited from my forbears? That takes some thinking about. A formidable nose, for one thing, as you can see from the pictures above, of my great great uncle, and of myself at my wedding; a tendency to worry unnecessarily, developing into full-blown hypochondria in late middle age; and heart disease. More positively, a capacity for organisation and attention to detail, which made me a pretty good secretary/PA.
And then on the practical front, there is the investment income which has enabled me to live comfortably and independently for the past 21 years. It was an unlooked for blessing, as most of it came to me through my mother from her aunt. Having lost her only child in the first World War, she had no-one to inherit from her, and so left everything to her three sisters, from one of whom, my grandmother, one portion has now come to me and my brother. I often feel sad that my comfort should have been at such a painful expense for my great aunt.
And of course, coming from a line of manufacturing jewellers, I inherited some beautiful pieces made by my mother’s father. The most important of these was a suite or ‘parure’ made for my grandmother and consisting of brooch, bracelet, pendant and earrings, with green garnets, amethysts and pearls, set in gold with white enamel work. It is in a Rennaissance style, too elaborate for wear in my time, though I did wear the pendant and earrings once or twice. Eventually, rather than leave it unappreciated in a drawer, I decided to part with it and pass on the proceeds to my sons. I was able to sell it to the City of Birmingham Museums, who were glad to add it to their collection relating to the Birmingham jewellery trade.
My parents met after the first World War. Throughout the war my father had been interned in Germany, where he had gone at the age of 19 to improve his knowledge of the language. His prison camp was a converted racing stables at Ruhleben, near Berlin, where the 4000 men and boys from all walks of life slept in the horse-boxes. The prisoners succeeded in developing a complete society there during the four years of the war, including their own postal system, and my brother and I have inherited some interesting memorabilia. Sadly, the experience had a profound effect on my father, and left him shy and retiring and reluctant to undertake new ventures.
My mother had wanted to go to university. Illness prevented this initially, and by the time she was better, my grandfather had apparently decided that such an education was not appropriate for her. The result was that she spent the rest of her life trying to find something to exercise her brain, above and beyond being an excellent wife, housekeeper and mother. Sometimes she found something worthwhile, such as Marriage Guidance Counselling, and sometimes she was less successful. My brother and I have very uncomfortable memories of the period when she was reading books about psychology!
My grandfather, who, I believe had himself had a 7-year engagement, insisted that my parents should not marry until my father was earning enough to keep my mother in the same degree of comfort and respectability in which she had grown up. After three years my parents found this too much to bear, and went off ostensibly to a tennis tournament one afternoon, but came back married! This caused much frostiness in my mother’s home, but all was eventually forgiven. My other grandparents also put pressure on: my parents wanted to emigrate to New Zealand and farm sheep there, but my father’s mother would not accept such a distancing from her only son. (I did not feel able to breathe a whisper of protest when my eldest decided to emigrate to Australia – but it’s a different world now.)
What have I inherited from my forbears? That takes some thinking about. A formidable nose, for one thing, as you can see from the pictures above, of my great great uncle, and of myself at my wedding; a tendency to worry unnecessarily, developing into full-blown hypochondria in late middle age; and heart disease. More positively, a capacity for organisation and attention to detail, which made me a pretty good secretary/PA.
And then on the practical front, there is the investment income which has enabled me to live comfortably and independently for the past 21 years. It was an unlooked for blessing, as most of it came to me through my mother from her aunt. Having lost her only child in the first World War, she had no-one to inherit from her, and so left everything to her three sisters, from one of whom, my grandmother, one portion has now come to me and my brother. I often feel sad that my comfort should have been at such a painful expense for my great aunt.
And of course, coming from a line of manufacturing jewellers, I inherited some beautiful pieces made by my mother’s father. The most important of these was a suite or ‘parure’ made for my grandmother and consisting of brooch, bracelet, pendant and earrings, with green garnets, amethysts and pearls, set in gold with white enamel work. It is in a Rennaissance style, too elaborate for wear in my time, though I did wear the pendant and earrings once or twice. Eventually, rather than leave it unappreciated in a drawer, I decided to part with it and pass on the proceeds to my sons. I was able to sell it to the City of Birmingham Museums, who were glad to add it to their collection relating to the Birmingham jewellery trade.
Recording our memories
I have been lucky enough recently to find myself linked through my blog to a number of women writers, from hopeful beginners like myself to experienced professionals. This is a great pleasure to me, and will, I hope, prove to be a useful resource as well. Pauline wrote of a book she had been given by her son and daughter-in-law, expressly designed for writing down her own life memories, and then giving back to the donors. In a comment I mentioned this book on the left, which has a similar purpose, and has helped to push me in the direction of writing my own memoirs. Although it only contains prompts, there are 33 chapter headings, with more than 30 different prompts in each chapter. It does not contain space for writing, but the authors suggest that one's record may be created by writing, or by using a tape recorder or video camera.
Mention of the book brought Wenda to my blog, so I am putting up these details for her.
The book was originally published by Doubleday in the United States in March 1993, ISBN No: 0-385-46797-4, and cost $ 15.95. It was brought back from America for me. I have had a look in amazon.co.uk but did not find it there. However, the second hand book market is a different matter, and if you are in the UK you will find copies at abebooks.
"Long lives yield many treasures", to quote from the book's jacket blurb - don't lose them!
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