On Friday 17 May, Peg’s family and closest friends gathered at Basingstoke Crematorium to say a fond goodbye to this extraordinary-ordinary lady who had been an amazingly important part of their lives and who left such a wonderful impression on all those she had met along her 100 year road. Below are some of the lovely thoughts that we expressed at her farewell…
Thoughts of Nanny by Georgia
Talk about a capacity to love. Nanny adores her family, from her sister to her husband, her boys, their wives, us grandchildren, our husbands & wives, to her 9 great grandchildren. Her love for us all knows no bounds.
I am lucky to have known my Nanny for fifty years and am so happy that my children will have lovely memories of our matriarch.
Today I wanted to share my fondest memories from our time together … going back in time.
The last ten years have been peppered with numerous technology-related incidents that whist initially caused frustration, they ended up leaving Nan in fits of giggles …
- from the pesky TV aerial that mysteriously fell out of its socket at least once a week
- to the realisation that a power cut rendered Nanny blind, deaf and mute and totally befuddled without her beloved FaceTime and Scrabble connecting her to the outside world
… Nanny always managed to find a hotline to her Keithus who would dash over and get her back online as quick as a flash, even if it meant flagging down a car in the road in her nightdress to ‘borrow’ a phone.
The decade prior to that was a revelation for me. Fifteen years ago my amazing Nanny provided a great service for us one day a week on a Wednesday. At the time I was working in Alton and Jinny had just been born. Nanny loved babies. She was our family’s baby whisperer. They all behaved for her. So every Wednesday I would drop Jinny off with Nanny first thing and she would take care of her all day. The bond they developed was very special. It was only Jinny starting to toddle that brought that arrangement to an end.
In the 90’s I enjoyed a spell living with Nanny. I moved into her spare bedroom right up at the top of the house and we enjoyed many Scrabble supper evenings, more often than not with Auntie Eile. Back then Nanny was still a daily walker and would motivate me off the sofa and round the block, willing me to be healthier without making a big deal of it. Nanny was my housemate for a very short time but by far the tidiest … take note my current housemates.
As I transitioned from child to adult my grandmother became my first employer. Saturday mornings ‘helping’ in the shop, desperately trying to find hidden treasures tucked away, delving through Grandad’s cardboard drawers to find a 5amp fuse or an AA battery, untangling Christmas lights and at my best managing the point of sale: a calculator and Styrofoam change tray. It was my first retail experience, my first work experience and I have to say she was a great boss who made a mean cheese & tomato sandwich with cracked black pepper.
And going back even further, one of my earliest memories. A weekend trip down to Hayling Island with Nanny and Grandad. Me and Tom in the back of the car sucking our polos, trying to make them last longer than Nanny – she always won. Looking out for our landmarks en route. Arriving at the caravan with the perfect triangular plot of grass magically transformed into a putting green with the high hedge giving us privacy and the little privy providing essential services. I remember clearly the day Elvis died, Grandad puffing on his pipe reading the paper, the radio on, Tom and I playing pick up sticks and Nanny making egg and cress sandwiches … with me hoping she would remember I didn’t like butter in mine.
Do you remember how fast she used to walk? I had to trot to keep up. We laughed about that in the later years.
In fact we laughed a lot. Having a giggle with my Nanny was a pretty special thing. If you got something that tickled her it was pretty tough to stop her effervescent giggle. And she giggled right up to the end … as I said goodbye for the last time she gave me the sweetest smile, the strongest hug and a kiss that will endure for eternity.
So there you have it, 5 decades from boss, to housemate, to babysitter but always our friend, always our Nanny and never to be forgotten.
Darling Nanny by Lucy
I miss you… We miss you
I’m not sure I comprehend that I’ll never see you laugh or say “Love you, darling” or have a vicious card played against me.
You have shown me how to live a life that is full and I’ll do my utmost to Iive up to your legacy.
When Mummy died someone said ‘When you think of someone with love it sends them light’
Hope you’ve got your sunglasses on.
We love you
Lucy, Jon, Jack and Red
My Time Again by Rosy
I have an urge to do something, anything different. Unfortunately now I’m 100 there’s not so many things I can still do. My body aches and doesn’t work like it used to. Fortunately my hands can still stitch so I decide to make a dancing dress for my great granddaughter.
I gather all the little scrapes of fabric I can find, putting them all neatly into a pile. There are lilac colours with a touch of green and beautiful floral patterns. I spend all day working hard at making it.
I sit quietly for a moment and hope for the chance to dance one last time. I pick up the spectacular dress and without quite knowing how, I manage to slip it on. It fits perfectly. I go to my bathroom and put a lick of make-up onto my fragile skin and pin my thin white hair up. I glance at myself in the mirror and catch my reflection. Oh my, not my 100 year old self, but instead me as a beautiful young woman of 20. My heart soars with excitement.
I turn quickly and run down the stairs like I haven’t been able to do in over 50 years. I rush straight out the front door and set off down my street. I run down the hill and over the bridge, yes, the old studio is still there. I am out of breath by running so fast.
I am so exited that I want to scream out loud. I know now for sure that I am going to dance my heart out once again. I open the door and I am hit by the same mustardy kind of smell from all those years ago.
I walk in, up the stairs and the air is cold as it ever was. Lined up on the end wall are pair after pair of pointe shoes. I pull out a pair and bend to strap them on. It was a routine I had done so many times before and I hadn’t forgotten it at all. As I sit there, I recall the exams I have taken, and I quiver with excitement.
I start the music player and I can feel my heart buzzing like a hive of bees. I have not moved my body like this for such a long time. My connection with the music is as strong as the moonlight beaming through the windows. As each beat plays the steps fly in and out of me. I am flooded with the happiest of memories.
I have never danced this strong in my life, upping and downing my body, just like as if I am in a movie. As I land down from a triple turn, I courtesy just as I would at the end of a show. Everything then stops.
The next morning, my carer comes to my house and tries gently to wake me. After my last wonderful dance… I’ve gone
In gratitude by Amy
What is it to be old?
Is it to lose the glory of the shape?
The patina of the eye?
Is it for beauty to forego her place?
Yes, it may be so.
Is it to feel strength decayed?
Is it to feel each limb grow stiffer
Every function less exact,
Each movement weakened
Yes, it is so
And yet it is much more
Times stretched back
To, from a height, with wise eyes
And heart profoundly stirred,
Look and soar with joy
For days spent well
Two plus two making five and more
Juices squeezed
And stones upturned
Family nurtured
Now fully fledged
Independence sought
Found and savoured
Journeys relished
Adventures fulfilled
Catching smiles gifted
Word tiles speedily placed
And so it is
That despite the call from the other side
No suffering allowed
No place for pitiful laments
Instead the alchemy of time
Mellowing and softening as with sunset’s glow,
Enjoyment of gilded hours in golden days
A life well lived
Adoring, and copiously adored
Whilst now we weep
And absence, leaden, weighs down our hearts
Emptied space, never to be sated
Pride cuts a deep and striking ravine
Warmth settled in wide embrace
Love profound
Gratitude abounds
And infinite
The privilege of matriarchy
Eulogy by Roger
It’s oh so hard to say goodbye,
To stop the tears and not to cry
I miss you so very much already,
My days feel empty, I am unsteady
I’m flooded with my thoughts of you
And even though, of course, we knew
This day would come, you’d reach the end
It always seemed just round the bend
Some thought you might be an immortal
And never pass through life’s end portal
But now you’ve gone and slipped away
I’m at a loss for what to say…
The mother whom I loved so much
My rock, my guardian and my crutch
The one for whom I did no wrong
The one who was so kind and strong.
Of course, we should all celebrate
And fun-filled times to each relate
She wouldn’t want us sad and such
To mourn and grieve her over much
But I am struck by all that’s gone
So forgive me if I carry on…
And list some things I’ll never have again
Now Peg has given up her reign
No FaceTime calls each day at eight
No fretting when the call is late
No always hearing ‘Not So Bad’
When asking about the night you’d had
No cuddles in your special chair
No carefully brushing out your hair
No massaging of swollen knees
No post-lunch cutting snicks of cheese,
No games of Scrabble won or lost
No talk of bargains at low cost
No loving squeezes of the hand
No helping you to sit or stand,
No pushing you around the park
No acting as your postal clerk
No drives around the countrysides
No chasing you on scooter rides
No clicking of your walking stick
No anxiousness when you are sick
No turning the TV up loud
No doing things to make you proud
No little glass of red with food
No finding movies not too rude
No lunches perched up on my stools
No worrying about your falls
No “Love you darling” when hanging up
No use now for your Penguin cup
No cheeky biscuit with your tea
No giving of your best for me
No You, and that’s the worst
And all I do in crappy verse
Is try to say how much you mean
And how the world has never seen
A woman quite as special and as dear as you
So honest and so always true
So caring, thoughtful and so calm
So never wishing others harm
So full of simple good advice
So always dressing up so nice
My fondest farewell Mother dear
I’ll always feel your presence near.
This article was published in the Alton Herald on 9 May 2019
